


Snow on the Sahara

by spider



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ancient Egypt, F/M, Genderbending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spider/pseuds/spider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Ancient Egypt. A young thief named Bakura is rescued from the brink of death by a farm girl named Riu. (AU, eventual shounen-ai)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I finally updated this old fic and cleaned it up to post here. Not a whole lot of changes besides line editing, and I retconned AE Ryou's name into 'Riu' since it looked more authentic. 
> 
> Some lovely fanart I've received for this fic!:
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> <http://shiabunny.deviantart.com/art/YGO-Snow-on-the-Sahara-25120525>
> 
>  
> 
> <http://jinnina.deviantart.com/art/Snow-on-the-Sahara-69062401>
> 
>  
> 
> The song that inspired me is ['Snow on the Sahara' by Anggun](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHXyPTmliNs).
> 
> There are parts of this that aren't completely congruent with either Yugioh canon or history, but like Powerless, it was written well before the conclusion of the manga.

Bakura already felt like he’d been running forever, and the desert only seemed to get bigger with every frantic step.

He choked and swore breathlessly as he stumbled over a small rock, getting tangled in his cloak. He tried regain his former pace, glancing over his shoulder at his pursuers.

The shopkeeper and his assistants were still in furious pursuit, and they seemed far fitter and well fed than their quarry. It was just his luck that he should decide to steal from a merchant with not only exceptional endurance, but three sons who were at least a head taller than the thief.

He was already exhausted from hunger, and it took all of his will and strength to keep running over the unstable sand and searing blasts of wind as the sun bore down on him. He scrambled over a sand dune and cursed the sun, the merchant, and most of all, his own carelessness.

He didn’t have to steal the bread. Hidden in his coat were a few necklaces and anklets he had procured earlier. He could have easily traded one of them and gotten _five_ loafs. But the merchant had been busy chatting it up with the attractive wife of a local farmer, not minding his wares. Bakura was starving, the bread was well within his reach, and the merchant seemed oblivious.

Unfortunately, the merchant’s sons weren’t quite as negligent and had quickly given pursuit, and with the way they had chased him out of the village and straight into the desert, one would think he had stolen the gold of the Pharaoh himself. They probably would have given up earlier, but they saw his unnatural white hair, and suddenly what had been only a thieving boy became a demon in their eyes.

Bakura wished he _was_ a demon. Maybe then, his lungs wouldn’t be burning, his legs wouldn’t be aching, his skin wouldn’t be burnt, his muscles wouldn’t be screaming at him, the heat and lack of food wouldn’t be making him dizzy, his pursuers wouldn’t be gaining on him…

And maybe he wouldn’t have just run out of ground.

He skidded to a halt, gasping raggedly for air and staring down at the sudden drop. His desperation had lead him straight up a bank, and though it wasn’t too tall, the wall was sheer and rocky, impossible to climb down.

  
Bakura whirled around to face the men chasing him. If he was cornered, then at least he’d go down fighting. He reached into his coat to pull out his dagger –

But a cracking sound and sharp, stinging pain to his arm caused him to recoil. He hissed in agony, and only had a brief moment to register the fact that one of his attackers had a whip, before the men were upon him and a fist connected to his face.

The boy was already half-defeated by hunger and heat by the time they caught him, and quickly collapsed as the beating commenced. His face was forced into the dirt, and he felt a heavy foot step on the back of his neck, effectively pinning him. In one rough motion, his cloak was jerked downwards, the ruffled sleeves trapping arms to his sides. As the hot wind hissed across his exposed back, the thief steeled himself. He knew what was coming next.

_CRACK._

Bakura didn’t cry out. He refused to give his attackers that pleasure, even if it meant biting his lip until it bled, even if he had to muffle himself by burying his face in the hot, rocky ground. His body jerked with every slicing blow of the whip, and tears where in his eyes, but he was silent, even as blood filled his mouth and danced along his back. Crimson flecks splattered the sand.

He couldn’t stop himself from screaming, though, as he felt his broken body being lifted up by the nape of his cloak, and tossed off the rocky cliff like a sack of grain.

As he fell, as the air rushed through his hair and cloak, as the rocks at the bottom of the drop quickly rose to greet him like the gaping maw of an eager crocodile, he could think of nothing but his childhood at Kul Elna. Memories of his family, his friends, laughing, eating, crying, begging, screaming, bleeding…

He snarled into the rushing wind.

The thief hit the ground with an explosion of red pain. Blackness crept over his conscious, but before the shadows consumed him entirely, he made a promise.

_I won’t die yet._


	2. A Light in the Dark

_In a strange way, the darkness was peaceful._

_He was floating, drifting through the night of his mind._

_Was this the afterlife? The underworld? As he suspected, the gods were nowhere to be found._

_Nevertheless, if this was oblivion, an eternity here would be welcomed._

_No - no, it wouldn’t. He had to live, he had to get his revenge. He didn’t know how, didn’t know what one simple thief could do against the god king of Egypt - but he would do **something** , by the blood of everyone murdered in his village. He had to. He must have been the sole survivor for a reason, after all._

_Maybe it was destiny._

_There was a light._

***

Someone was touching him.

It was hesitant and curious, a light brushing back of his bangs, but nevertheless, _someone was touching him._

Out of reflex, Bakura’s hand deftly reached up and snatched the offending hand away, crushing the thin, soft fingers in his grasp. There was a strangled gasp of surprise, and he opened one eye.

He stared up into the face of nothing less than a goddess.

He blinked both his eyes open, and his instincts of self-preservation became lost to bewilderment. Her large, dark eyes gazed down at him with a combination of pain, fear and wonder. She wore no makeup, and a ragged, shoulder-length wig that only detracted from her appearance. And though the light was poor, he could have almost sworn she looked as pale as the moon.

The thief had to remember to breathe.

“I guess you’re alive,” she said softly and smiled, though tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. Bakura momentarily wondered what manner of fiend would make such a delicate creature cry, when he realized he was still grasping her fingers with all the strength he could muster. He quickly let go and glanced to the side.

The girl sat back and rubbed her bruised fingers slightly, but didn’t seem the least bit angry. He could see she was wearing loose white linens draped over her shoulders, as well as a long dress wrapped around her legs, all well-worn. It certainly seemed like a lot of clothing considering the air was so warm… or was he just blushing?  He tried to shake it off and moved to sit up.

“Argh!”

Only now did Bakura become aware of the mind-shattering pain that plagued every inch of his being. His entire body felt like one bloody bruise, and pain shot through one of his legs like a lightning strike when he moved.

The girl recoiled and pushed him back onto the mat he laid on as gently as she could, “Please don’t move! Your ankle is broken and I don’t know how well I set it,” she warned, sounding genuinely concerned for his well-being. A quick glance downward told him that his foot and lower leg had been haphazardly bound with papyrus leaves and some reeds as a makeshift splint. “I’ve only set animal legs before,” she admitted.

He narrowed his eyes up at her suspiciously. She was treating him like he was human. Couldn’t she see his freakish hair, the color of sun-bleached bones?

“Who are you?” He tried to growl, becoming defensive in lieu of knowing how else to react to such kindness, but it came out as more of a wheezing croak.

“I’m Riu,” she introduced herself with a sweet smile, and Bakura winced. How could anyone smile so much?

He glanced around the small, dark room. Mud brick walls … it had been a long time since he had been indoors. There were some plain pots and baskets to one side, and a bit of hay littered the floor. A distinctive crack ran down the corner of one of the walls, and despite how barren it was, the place smelled earthy and felt comforting. Outside the doorway, it was night, and the wind rustled softly through the moonlit reeds, a cool breeze blowing into the house. He could even hear the river from here.

“I… I found you at the bottom of a hill when I was looking for a lost goat. I never would have seen you if you weren’t wearing that cloak,” Riu explained, examining the exotic red fabric, but she was polite enough to not touch it. Bakura scowled slightly. His cloak stuck out like a sore thumb in a land where almost everyone dressed in white, and he knew it, but it was all he had to protect himself from the heat and the sun. Besides, he liked to think it made him seem dangerous.

“You brought me here?” He asked incredulously. She seemed like such a thin slip of a girl, where did she get the upper body strength to move him, much less take him back to her house?

“It wasn’t that far away,” she glanced at her lap, folding her hands, “I sort of… had to turn you over and drag you. I’m sorry.”

Bakura was struck dumb. This girl had dragged a complete stranger – a strange looking stranger in strange clothes, no less – into her house and attended to his wounds. And she was apologizing?

He cringed. Reminded of it, he became aware of the fact that his back was torn from the whip lashes, and being dragged couldn’t have helped. He leaned back heavily into the thin mat and let out a weary sigh.

Riu tilted her head, before she seemed to recall something, and left the room, heading up the stairs that lead to the roof. It was suddenly too much for Bakura to turn his head or say anything, so all he could do was hope she came back.

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to be alone. Maybe because it felt like he was on the threshold to the afterlife, and apt to cross over at any moment.

The warm, hearty smell of some sort of stew reached his nose, and his stomach ached at the memory of food. Nevertheless, it gave him a bit of life, and he mustered the strength to look in the direction of the delicious scent. Riu sat down beside him, holding a clay bowl and a loaf of fresh bread. “I made this earlier. I didn’t know if you were going to wake up or not, so it’s not much, but…”

The stalks of leeks sat in a warm soup of onion, milk and cheese. Riu tore off a piece of the bread and dipped it in the stew, letting it soak up the dairy and vegetable juices, before holding it in front of Bakura’s face.

The young thief blinked at the offering, hardly able to believe it was real. The very sight of it was making him salivate. At another time, he might have resented being fed like an infant, but how long had it been since he had a warm meal? Or any meal at all? He was more than hungry enough to swallow his pride and snap at the bread. Riu had to yank her fingers back to avoid being bit.

She seemed happy to have someone appreciate her cooking, though, and a thought crossed Bakura’s mind. She seemed to be about the same age as he was, maybe a little younger, but still an adult.

“Are you sure it’s wise to bring a stranger into your home and give him your food?” He asked in a low tone. Usually, he wouldn’t bother questioning a good thing, but this girl was the first person to show him kindness since he was a child. It would weigh heavily on what little conscience he had left for her to get in trouble. “I can’t imagine your husband would approve.”

“I’m alone,” she responded simply, holding out another piece of bread. “My father is working in Karnak as a builder for the Pharaoh until the coming floods subside.”

“And the rest of your family?”

“My mother died in childbirth a long time ago. Father loves her too much to remarry.”

Her explanation was simple, but Bakura raised a cynical eyebrow. He got the feeling that the depth of this girl’s solitude went far deeper than she had described, though her voice remained flat and quiet.

She was always quiet, he noted, as though she were afraid to speak much louder than a whisper. If she was alone, what was she scared of? Bakura looked to her face for answers, but her head was hung and the black, uniform bangs of her wig concealed her eyes in shadow.

The meal continued in silence until the loaf of bread was gone. With food in his stomach for the first time in ages, Bakura felt almost content despite his bruised and bloodied body. Which seemed to be numbing anyway…

“I put some herbs in there that should help ease the pain so you can rest,” Riu mentioned, standing up. “Sleep well, um…” She frowned uncertainly.

“Bakura,” he said with a yawn. He was already falling asleep.

“Sleep well… Bakura.” She paused and considered the unusual name, before offering him a pleasant smile and leaving him to his rest.

As he lay there, alone on the dark, cool floor, he listened to the burbling waters of the Nile and let them carry him off to sleep. 


	3. Stoning the Bread

Once again, it was the scent of Riu’s food that seemed to bring Bakura back from the brink of death. Reluctantly, the thief woke, though he knew he would be in pain again as soon as he did. Still, the promise of a meal tempted him.

Bakura squinted against the light that poured in through the empty square holes that doubled as doors and windows for the small mud brick house. It had to be the middle of the day already, and he blinked his eyes open, surprised. It wasn’t like him to sleep so late. But then, the mat he was on was soft, the food was good, so it wasn’t hard to see why he had.

“Are you awake?” A voice wondered softly from the doorway, and he turned his head. She held a plate with bread with some cheese and cabbage, as well as a small jar. Riu walked over and sat down on the floor beside him, and started tearing off a piece of bread.

“I can feed myself this time,” Bakura grumbled, trying to prop himself up without either moving his leg or his back – a formidable task. He gave up with an aggravated sigh.

“Well, alright. Here,” She set the clay plate down close to his hand, and left to carry out some chore. He watched her leave, waiting for her to disappear before he feebly reached for the bread, trying not to hiss in pain when doing this reminded him of this lacerated back. He had just managed to grab a chunk of bread when Riu returned, carrying a basket.

She seemed somewhat hesitant as she made her way to the other end of the house, still well within Bakura’s sight, and sat down at a trough, pouring the contents of the basket – grain – into it.

“I hope you don’t mind if I use the mill. I’m all out of dough and I need to make some more,” Riu explained, raising her voice slightly so he could hear.

Bakura stared at her from across the room, scrutinizing her. Her voice sounded… odd, now that he could hear it properly, a little deeper than it should have. But he shook his head, shrugging it off.

“There wouldn’t be much I could do about it if I did, would there?” He grunted. Her consideration for him just confused him, and that translated to irritation. She simply lowered her head with a slight nod and picked up a rounded stone, proceeding to grind the grain against the side of the trough.

Riu seemed distracted enough, so Bakura continued his slow, painful attempt to reach for the bread, trying to scoot the plate closer to himself. But his arms were as sore as the rest of him, and one of his shoulders felt like it had been dislocated and popped back into place.

He probably shouldn’t have survived that fall, and for all the pain he was in, he almost wished he hadn’t. It could only have been by incredible luck that Riu had found him before a hungry hyena did.

Bakura managed to grab hold of the block of crumbling cheese, and as he chewed on it slowly, he tried to calculate how long it would take him to get his strength back so he could leave and stop burdening the poor girl. It was obvious she had nothing worth stealing, so he might as well be on his way before someone recognized him as the red-cloaked thief that had been plaguing the area.

Or before he got too accustomed to having human company again.

Bakura closed his eyes. Luckily for him, he had always been a fast healer, and he had been able to bounce back from wounds that should have killed him more than once. Aside from a lot of sore muscles, cuts and bruises, the wounds on his back, his broken ankle, near starvation and dehydration, he should be fine.

A soft humming coming from the other side of the house roused Bakura out of his reflections on his miserable state, and he looked over at his quiet caretaker. Riu had gotten so involved in her repetitive task that she seemed to have forgotten he was there, and had started humming - chanting, now - a meaningless, melodic tune.

Tilting his head to one side, he paused in his eating so that he could listen to her chant. The last time he watched someone work over a mill, humming softly to make the back-breaking task a little more interesting, it was his mother.

Though it was tempting, he didn’t dare reminisce.

“Does the singing make the bread better, I wonder?” He mused with a slight smirk, and Riu was snapped out of her trance, her singing coming to a strangled halt.

“Sorry… I guess I got a little distracted,” She looked away sheepishly, bearing down on the grain with renewed vigor.

“I never said I minded it,” Bakura’s sly near-smile never left his face, “I just noticed that you women always sing when you’re working the mill.”

Riu blinked, before an inexplicable look of shame briefly crossed her features, “It passes the time.”

Bakura’s only reply was a noncommittal grunt, before silence fell over the mud brick house once again. He had to wonder at himself. He wasn’t one to try and start a conversation with someone. He couldn’t lie to himself and say her singing had been annoying him. In fact, it had been almost… peaceful?

He shook off the thought with a slight growl and swallowed. His throat was parched, and the thief eyed the small jar that Riu had brought in with the meal. Steeling himself, he managed to grasp it with his nearest hand and take a whiff of the contents.

The rich, warm scent of beer and honey flooded his senses, and he eagerly brought the jar to his lips. Unfortunately, it was a bit difficult to drink from a jar when laid out flat on one’s back. Bakura ended up spilling more on his face than he got in his mouth, and he swore bitterly.

The incapacitated thief was too busy trying to work out how to successfully take a sip from the jar to notice that Riu had heard him. Suddenly she was kneeling beside his head, and before he could protest, she had slipped an arm beneath his head and lifted it up just enough to allow him to drink.

“I don’t need you to baby me, you wretched girl!” He snarled and tried to squirm free, but in doing so, he managed to knock his broken ankle to one side. Bakura let out a brief but rather unmanly howl of pain, before managing to cut himself off by grinding his teeth. Riu winced and took the jar from his hands. He started pounding the floor with his fist, trying desperately to counteract the pain coursing through his leg.

She wisely waited until his pain had subsided and he wore himself out from his tantrum, before inquiring softly, “Are you okay?”

“What do you _think_?” He snarled quietly, too tired and pained to sound terribly menacing. She was still propping his head up, and now she held the jar before him. Bakura almost turned his head away in disgust, but once again, his pride was defeated by the fact his throat felt drier than summer sand. Scowling all the while, he closed his eyes and drank.

Once he had downed the contents of the small jar, Riu slowly removed her hand from the back of his head. He felt her fingers hesitate as they went through his tousled white hair, and she seemed to be examining the colorless locks with an odd expression on her face.

“Must you paw at my hair on top of everything else?” He muttered and opened one eye to glare at her. Riu quickly removed her hand, curling her fingers into a fist and withdrawing it to her chest shyly. She stared intently at the floor, not daring to look at her ‘guest’.

Bakura was puzzled. That was a strange reaction. When it came to his hair, there was usually fear or revulsion, nothing else. Riu, however, looked as though she was reflecting on something painful and familiar. Whatever it was, she didn’t dwell on it. Without a word, she stood and went back to her mill.

He tried to remain irritated with her, but her rhythmic scraping lulled him back into a calm trance. Or perhaps the beer had been laced with pain-killing herbs like his last meal. Either way, he was glad to be bereft of his aches and pains, even if it was only temporary.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, the thief focused on the girl’s back, if only because it was across the room in his line of sight and the only thing of any particular interest. Riu seemed to be grinding an awful lot of grain. He could have sworn she left and came back with another basket full of wheat, but everything seemed rather hazy and dream-like at that moment. At this point, he wouldn’t have been terribly surprised if a talking hippopotamus had come in through the door and introduced itself as the Pharaoh.

“Why ’re you making so mush bread?” Bakura slurred slightly. The words sounded fine to him, but Riu looked over her shoulder at him and stared at him as though he were speaking some alien tongue.  
  
“What did you say?”

“I said… why ‘re you making so mush bread… stupid girl.”

Riu tilted her head as she apparently tried to translate whatever he had said. “Oh… I’m going to sell it at the market later. I need to trade for some supplies.” She didn’t seem very certain of herself, though.

“Sell?” Bakura wondered as he stared at the ceiling, keeping an eye on it since it seemed to be moving, “Yooor not going to get mush for bread. Trade something of worh - worth.” So maybe his speech was a little impaired, but it was certainly still discernible to his ears. What was her problem?

“I don’t really have anything –“

“Peasssant!” Bakura tried to hiss and glare in her direction, but he found his neck muscles declined to work, so he settled for scowling at the ceiling, “Jush take one of my neck… nechlashes.”

“Your what…?”

“In my coat,” he insisted irritably, getting frustrated with her. “Gold necklaces. Left side.”

“Bakura, I think the hashish is affecting your mind –”

“Haa-sheesh? What did you put in my fh-food, woman? Jus’ come here!” Bakura snapped when she seemed confused, still lingering at her mill. Hesitantly, she complied, looking down at him.

“Left side,” he reiterated with a drunken growl, and she reached in cautiously, as though he were a crocodile lying in wait. Her eyebrows arched with surprise when she actually came across jangling metal, stuffed in a hidden pocket of his cloak.

Slowly, almost reverently, she pulled one of the necklaces out, apparently awed by the gold and semi-precious jewels. Bakura snorted. She really _was_ a peasant, to be in such awe over a relatively cheap piece of jewelry.

“Where did you get this…?” She murmured, wide-eyed. If he could have, Bakura would have shrugged, since he couldn’t exactly remember thanks to his fogged mind.

“I probably shto… wait,” There was a fleeting moment of clarity in his addled head, and he did his best to think up a story. “My father… my father wash a merchant. We traveled through Egypt shelling goods, until… Bandits. Bandits ambushed us. Yes, that’sh what happened. The thieves killed father, stole our goodsh, and beat me within an inch of my life. Then you found me, and now I am here.”

Riu drew back, holding the necklace to her to her heart. “That’s awful,” she said in a quiet voice.

“It’s the truth! Huh? Oh…yes, Ra’s fury upon them. Or Oshirish? Hoor-ush? I forget.”

“Bakura, this is very kind of you and all, but are you sure you want me to take this?” She looked at the necklace, “I don’t know if you’re thinking very clearly right now…”

Bakura started laughing, much to Riu’s bewilderment.

“Hoorush, thath’s a funny name. And yoo… Riy-yoo… sound like a boy!”

Riu suddenly grimaced and backed away from Bakura, a blush coloring her features. She looked like she had been caught doing something criminal. This just made the thief laugh harder, practically to the point of tears. He tried to wave a hand at her dismissively, but his muscles were still on strike.

“Jush take it, stupid, funny girl. Haha, jus’ tell them Hoorush gave it to you! Hehee… Hoorush.”

Riu stared at him a moment, before she stood and left the mud brick house, still looking horribly embarrassed and probably disturbed by his behavior. Bakura just kept chortling, well after she had gone, until he finally wore himself out and fell asleep.

Several hours later, he awoke in an empty room.

He started swearing at the ceiling when he realized what he had done. 


	4. Sea of the Night Sky

Riu still hadn’t returned. 

Bakura passed the time by alternating between staring out the window and sleeping. His body was thankful for the rest and the food in his stomach, but was not the type to enjoy being confined to bed. Boredom gnawed at his mind, and he tried to distract himself by testing out his muscles. He wasn’t as sore as he had been yesterday, and he could ignore his scrapes and bruises. Most of the pain was concentrated around the slashes on his back, and his shattered ankle.

Still, he didn’t really want to try and move, as dull as being confined to the mat was, but his bladder was insistent. Bakura inhaled deeply, clenching his teeth as he tried to pull himself upright. He had to bite back an agonized shout as the wounds on his back shifted. The thief grimaced. His cloak was stuck to his back, and he tried not to think about the bloody mess that lay beneath. It was a good thing his cloak was already red, or else Riu might have seen not just the new slashes, but old scars of whippings long ago. He didn’t have a good explanation for them.

Once he was sitting up and the pain of his lashes subsided, he tried to figure some way to stand without moving his ankle. There was nothing around he could use to pull himself upright. Trying to use his back muscles as little as he could, he started dragging himself across the floor, to the doorway. It was only few feet, but it felt like miles, every inch causing the raw skin over his shoulder blades to move and twist.

Bakura finally made it, gripping the mud brick wall and trying to catch his breath between dark muttered curses and oaths. He was running low on strength, but he managed to tap into some hidden reserve and slowly pulled his aching body upright, keeping his broken ankle as still as he could.

It was hell on his back, but his determination was greater than his injuries. Somewhere, between the mat and the doorway, the mundane, if not agonizing journey to find some bushes to relieve himself in had become an epic journey, a test of his will and character, and he refused to fail.

Before he knew it, he was standing.

Granted, he was huddling against the doorway, gripping the stone with weak, trembling arms, exhausted by his efforts, fresh blood was trickling down his back from his reopened wounds - but he was standing.

When the night breeze blew in Bakura’s face and tousled his wild white hair, a victorious grin came over his face. He inhaled the scent of the mud and the reeds carried on the cool wind, and it revitalized him just enough to take the first, hesitant, limping step. He started following the parameter of the house’s outer walls, shuffling along and using the wall to balance himself in lieu of his right foot.

Once he had attended to business in a clump of reeds, he started on the long trek back to the mat, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to tune out the pain each shaky step brought. As he turned the corner, though, the sound of the flowing Nile caught his attention, and he lifted his head.

Riu was sitting on the bank, some ways away, her back turned to him. She seemed oblivious to his presence, splashing her face with the cool, moonlit waters. Bakura paused in his hobbling, leaning heavily against the wall as he watched her.

She seemed to be rubbing something on her face besides water - makeup? Who would apply makeup in the middle of the night? Bakura furrowed his brow. There was no reason for her to be out here, enjoying the stars. The people of this land loathed the night as they loathed his unnatural hair. As a result, he’d found solidarity with the moon and had become a creature of darkness, as much as he could in a culture that functioned only during the day.

But something in his gut told him that Riu was different. Yes, she had taken him in despite being fully aware of his aberrant features - but perhaps she was only foolish and kindhearted. His cynical heart found it hard to believe that someone could be that tolerant, though, after the life he had lived. Then why…

His breath caught in his throat as she slipped off her wig and answered his question.

Once the shoddy collection of braids was removed, a cascade of soft white hair fell to her shoulders.

Bakura was so shocked that he lost his grip on the house and stumbled. Out of reflex, he tried to catch himself with his right foot, and he released a sharp yelp that quickly degenerated into angry swearing. Riu jumped and scrambled to her feet, looking around and trying to pull her wig back into place. When she realized it was him, she quickly ran over and tried to help support him.

“Bakura, what are you doing?! You need to lie down!” She pleaded, putting an arm over the small of his back and acting as a makeshift crutch. Bakura swore a few more times before he noticed that there was now a warm body by his side, and he looked down at Riu. She hadn’t replaced her wig very well, and a few silvery bangs fell over her eyes.

“You’ll never heal if you put such a strain on yourself,” She chided in a quieter voice, but it trailed into silence as the thief lifted his hand and slowly brushed the white locks into his grasp. He heard her stop breathing as he ran the hair through his fingers with slight awe.

It was the color of starlight, soft and shimmering. His gaze shifted to the face behind the bangs, and watched for a reaction. Riu just stared ahead blankly.

“I need fresh air as much as rest, and the night’s so much better than daylight,” he said finally, letting the hair fall from his fingers, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Riu seemed frozen for the moment, before she turned her eyes to the ground and withdrew from him slightly, trying futilely to fix her wig.

“Just take it off,” he instructed in a low tone, “You’ve nothing to hide from me.”

Defeated, Riu’s shoulders slumped and she slowly removed the wig, letting her alabaster hair tumble down over her face and neck. As she stood beside him, Bakura studied her for a moment, before he saw the place where she had been spreading something on her face, near her temple - some sort of ointment, apparently, to treat an ugly purple bruise that had been hidden previously by her wig.

His eyebrows arched as he noticed the marred skin. Unbidden, his anger suddenly flared up, and he growled, “Who did that to you?”

Riu let go of his side to place a hand over the bruise self-consciously. He noticed that her arms looked slightly sunburned, or at least the part that wasn’t covered with her swath of linens. “I— it’s nothing.”

He strained to remember what she had told him earlier, but the hashish had distorted his memory. “You went to the market,” he faintly recalled, then snarled as realization hit him, “They saw what you were, didn’t they? Stupid girl, what were you thinking? Even with your hair covered, your skin is still-“

“Bakura, I just…” Riu sighed, hugging her wig to her chest, “I… I tried to trade the necklace you gave me, and I was almost finished making a deal, when someone recognized me as ‘that strange goat girl’ and pulled off my wig. I think they were just surprised, but I managed to get away. I’m afraid they stole the necklace, though.”

“I should…” Bakura bit his angry tongue and rethought his words, “…I should give you another bruise for robbing me while you had me drugged!”

Bakura saw fear flash in Riu’s eyes, and guilt stabbed at his gut. He loathed the idea of going soft, but he couldn’t bring himself to terrorize her. He sighed irately.

“Don’t cringe away from me like a dog. I’m not going to treat you like they do.”

The farm girl blinked up at him, relaxing from the defensive position she had taken. “I’m sorry, Bakura, the hashish was supposed to make you sleep, nothing else. I didn’t even know you had those necklaces.”

“Stop whimpering.” He dismissed her apology with a snort, looking away and turning his attention back to the river. The rushing water was soon the only sound as they both fell silent.

“Would you at least sit down?” Riu asked tentatively. Bakura flicked his gaze back to her for a brief moment, before he grunted and returned his gaze to the bank.

Riu took this as a yes, slipping her arm around his waist and guiding his arm across her shoulders. Bakura set his jaw, and refused to look at her as she helped him to the shore. She helped him sit, kneeling down to hold his wounded leg still as he positioned himself. He dug his teeth into his lip as the motion tore his lashes, but Riu didn’t seem to notice. Once he was situated, she scooted away, putting a respectable amount of space between them.

Bakura let out a long breath and waited for the pain to run its course, before he slowly opened his eyes and looked skywards. It was a clear summer night. Strings of stars sparkled against the blue and black folds of the midnight sky, like priceless necklaces strewn across a fine, dark linen. The moon was full and bright, swathed by faint wisps of clouds. It was unusually quiet, and Bakura imagined he could hear the distant clouds gliding across the sky.

“I wonder how Ra’s doing.”

Riu’s voice broke the silence, and Bakura looked over at her with a puzzled expression. She didn’t look at him, still staring up at the sky, but she did smile.

“You know the legend, don’t you?” She asked, and Bakura lifted his lip in disgust.

“I have no use for old stories.”

“Haven’t you ever wondered, though, where Ra goes when night falls?”

“It doesn’t matter. It always comes back.”

Riu politely ignored his skepticism and continued. “He descends into the underworld, journeying across the _duat_. The stars follow in his wake, sailing across the night sky until the morning, when he is reborn.”

  
“And?”

“And what?”  
  
“What’s the point?”

“The point…” Riu watched the moon’s reflection in the waters of the Nile, “It’s the cycle all life goes through. One half of existence is the day, life and living. The other half is night, sleeping and death. But the night always ends. Ra is always reborn. It’s a tribute to the way life always conquers death.”

Bakura smirked bitterly. “You are a traitor.”

Riu blinked at him on confusion, and the thief shook his head. “Why celebrate the victory of the sun when you’re a thing of the night?”

The farm girl paused and seemed to consider this, and Bakura continued. “Your little story is fine, except for one thing - us. What about us? We live at night and sleep during the day. Our hair is white, your skin is pale. We are everything normal people are, turned upside-down.  They’re the day. We are the darkness.”

Riu seemed to have a momentary conflict of faith, but it passed and she shrugged. “You don’t have to be part of something to think it’s beautiful.”

Bakura arched his brow.

“Maybe we’re not part of the cycle,” she conceded, “But that just means we can appreciate what others fail to see. Too many people are afraid of the night.” Riu looked to the sky, “No one ever watches the whole cycle, never sees the stars sail through the sea of the night sky, and never sees how beautiful it all is…”

She seemed lost in a trance, taken by the stars above. Bakura followed her gaze for a moment, before his eyes wandered back to her. The whole sky seemed to be reflected in her soft brown eyes, and she wore an expression of simple awe and happiness that could usually only be found on much younger faces.

Bakura eyelids sank. Riu had been given a lot in life not unlike his own, but where he had become dark and cold as the night sky, she shone like a star.

Even if, like the stars, there was no one to appreciate it.

“Yeah,” he murmured under his breath, looking away, “Beautiful.” 


	5. Inferno of Darkness

Bakura tried to shift his position in his sleep, but the realization of a warm, steadily breathing weight beside him jolted him awake.

He opened his eyes, keeping them trained on the wall, the faintest of blushes creeping over his cheeks as he tried in vain to recall the details of last night. All he could remember was Riu helping him back to the mat, offering him another jar of tainted beer so he could sleep painlessly, but after that it was a fog.

Hesitantly, he looked down.

The goat stared back at him, chewing its cud. It was apparently quite comfortable beside the bedridden thief.

An odd mixture of relief and annoyance ran through Bakura’s mind, and he growled, trying to shove the goat away. “Woman, come get this stupid beast away from me!”

Riu was nowhere to be found, though. Grumbling, he looked around for any sign that she was around, when he heard faint voices outside. He strained to listen and sat up as best as he could, clamping the goat’s muzzle shut to silence its loud chewing.

Bakura stared out the door. The evening sun illuminated two figures in the distance. The shorter one wrapped in lots of linens had to be Riu. The taller one was an older man dressed in nothing but a long loincloth. He narrowed his eyes; their motions suggested that they were having a solemn conversation. Riu finally nodded, and started back towards the house as the man left.

“Who was that?” Bakura asked in an almost accusatory tone, and Riu looked down at him and his hoofed bunkmate.

  
“I…” She glanced to the side, and only now did Bakura notice the sadness in her eyes. “It was a friend of my father’s… he brought news.”

“What news?”

“Father has to stay in Karnak even longer, to help build the new tomb.” Riu sat down on the floor, arranging her dress and lowering her head.

“New tomb?” Bakura watched her. He wasn’t about to offer his condolences, but he did try to take the edge out of his voice.

“Yes… the Pharaoh died. His son will be crowned when he is old enough, but they have to start construction now.”

“What?!” Bakura’s sudden furious snarl spooked the goat, which leapt up and scrambled out the door. Riu was taken aback as well, watching dumbly as the thief tried to pull himself to his feet. Anger and lingering drugs numbed his pain.

“Bakura, what are you doing? What’s wrong?” Riu hesitantly reached out for him, but he jerked away and all but threw himself at the nearest wall to lean against.

“He can’t be dead! His blood was _mine_! His death was **mine**! Damn it all!” He swore as he shuffled to the doorway. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, or what he was going to do, but he was too angry to worry about details at the moment.

His only chance for vengeance was _gone_. The Pharaoh had passed into the afterlife without paying for his crimes. Bakura growled and slammed his fist against the brick wall hard enough to knock a flack of mud off. Naturally, this accomplished nothing besides making his hand very sore.

The pain didn’t matter to him at the moment, though - the screaming scars on his back, his aching wrist, even his shattered ankle - for the moment, the sensation empowered him, turning his mind into something dark and primal. The combination of pain, fury and adrenaline almost felt _good_ , and fueled him to lurch towards his unknown goal with deadly, bloodthirsty focus. He felt like an inferno of darkness…

“You’re going to hurt yourself!” A desperate voice called to his back, but it seemed faint and unimportant. He ignored it, stepping out into the dying sunlight.

Someone grasped his hand and tried to stop him. It was the wrong thing to do. His hand arced through the air in one powerful backwards sweep, and landed against soft flesh with a loud smack.

That sound seemed to snap him out of his predatory trance, making him falter. He shook it off and continued forward, dragging his leg along. Bakura’s eyes were trained on the horizon, and he became set on destroying anything in his path.

Suddenly, something impeded his progress.

The thief snarled and struggled, glaring down at whatever was keeping him from his goal. The farm girl had dug her ankles in the mud, keeping him from pushing her back. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, and her forehead was buried against his shoulder. The cheek he had struck was a violent shade of red.

“Bakura, please, stop, you’re…” She sounded scared and confused, “You’re headed straight for the river…”

Bakura didn’t really hear her words. He stared down at her. His darkness demanded that she be tossed aside, but Riu’s embrace was giving him an odd feeling that somehow managed to snuff out the raging fires of his anger. As it smothered them with its soft warmth, the adrenaline slowly drained out of his system, leaving sore muscles and nausea in its wake. Weakened, he had to lean against her bodily to remain standing.

Riu shifted to accommodate his weight and relaxed her grip slightly, her touch becoming gentle. One of her hands wandered upward, touching his upper back lightly. He couldn’t keep himself from flinching at that. She brought her hand to rest against the nape of his neck instead. He could feel her fingers as they slid upwards, sifting through his messy hair and trailing along his scalp.

He blinked. It was not… an unpleasant feeling. The thief managed to tear his eyes away from the horizon, looking down at the wig only inches away from his face. Despite its artificial nature, it smelled distinctly of Riu, and his unsteady breathing made a few loose hairs to sway back and forth.

The hand on the back of his head urged him to lean it down, and he set his chin atop Riu’s crown without a fight. Bakura’s arms hung uselessly at his sides - his brain wasn’t functioning much at the moment either. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, just that he felt warm and lightheaded. His eyes wandered downwards, and he noticed the tears gathering in the corner of her tightly closed eyes, threatening to fall down her reddened cheek.

A pit of guilt settled into his stomach, and he reached up, running his thumb down the warm, soft skin before he knew it. Riu’s eyes blinked open, looking up at him with… fear? Shame? He couldn’t decipher her expression. It was probably fear, which only made guilt burrow further into his gut, along with a strange sense of anxiety when their eyes met.

“S… sorry,” He mumbled under his breath, quickly looking away and dropping his hand, “I didn’t mean to strike you.”

“It’s okay,” Riu smiled faintly, “I don’t understand, though… what got into you? You really shouldn’t speak of the Pharaoh like that.”

Bakura narrowed his eyes and pulled away from her grasp, muttering darkly. “It’s none of your concern.”

Riu sighed quietly and brought her hand back to her side, leaving his hair ruffled. “If… if you’re really that stir-crazy, we… you could go for a walk. I made a walking stick for you, though I’m not sure if I got the size exactly right.”

Bakura’s mind was finally cleared. He knew his anger was useless now. The only thing to do was to try and get it off his mind. The son of the pharaoh would simply have to pay for his father’s actions instead. Riu’s words finally registered in his mind, and he looked over at her, slight surprised.

He turned around. “Only one way to find out.”

Riu’s face seemed to brighten, and she helped him back to the house.


	6. One Road, Two Fates

The walking stick, crudely carved from a fallen tree limb, was almost exactly the right length. Bakura practiced using it, immensely grateful to be able to walk without Riu’s assistance. She seemed happy that he appreciated her handiwork, and set about gathering food and other supplies into a basket.

“What’re you doing?” He wondered gruffly, shuffling over to her and looking over her shoulder.

“Well, I haven’t eaten all day, and neither have you. If we’re going for a walk, we might as well eat once we get to where we’re headed.”

“Where are we going?” Bakura asked, sounding an awful lot like a fidgety child.

“You’ll see.” She smiled at him mysteriously, before she started walking. Bakura hobbled after her, and she politely paused and waited for him to catch up.

Their walk was spent almost entirely in silence. Bakura pulled his _shora_ up over his head. The twilight breeze was already blowing, and the sky was a backdrop of pink and orange as the sun descended below the earth. Insects sang, birds chirped, and there was the ever-present sound of the Nile underlying it all. They were walking along a beaten road that closely paralleled its banks, and tall, lush reeds bordered the path on both sides, before the desert started abruptly several hundred yards away.

They saw a few people going about their final chores of the day as they passed other small houses, but it was mostly livestock grazing in the harvested grain fields. A few of Riu’s goats had even chosen to accompany them, drawn by the smell of the relatively fresh bread in her basket. Laughing, she tore off little pieces and tossed it to them while Bakura caught his breath. He leaned against a tree and slowly sank into a sitting position. He was more tired than he should have been.

Riu noticed, frowning worriedly. “Are you alright? We don’t have to go any further.”

“I’m fine!” He wheezed defensively, quickly trying to pull himself upright using his walking stick, but it was difficult. Riu held her hand out, and he glared at it for a moment, before reluctantly taking it and allowing her to help him to his feet.

“We’re almost there,” she reassured him with another smile. Bakura tilted his head. She certainly seemed happy. Was she really so lonely that a silent walk with a standoffish cripple satisfied her need for human companionship? He snorted. _How pathetic._

Bakura tried not to think about the fact that, despite his weariness and snapping, he wasn’t in a terrible mood either.

They soon continued down the path, the goats losing interest and leaving them with only the reeds, the wind, and each other. Riu stopped, looking around, before she stepped off the road and started up a hill. Bakura hesitated in front of the tall grass, and she motioned for him to follow.

“Patience, woman! I—” He started as he stabbed his stick into the ground, but she shushed him. He was about to snap at her when he reached the apex of the hill, and the sight of the valley below stretched out before him.

It was probably a flood plain at one point, but wind, sand and time had pushed the hill they stood upon up from the ground, making a natural dike. Now it was a fertile valley, a sea of long, golden grass swaying in the fading daylight. Thin palm trees dotted the landscape, and the whole field seemed alive with the sounds of crickets and birds. The most thing was the reason Riu had silenced him, though.

A small herd of wild gazelle was scattered across the field, its members grazing and playing. A few of them had noticed the humans on the hillside and watched them warily, but for the most part, the two wanderers were ignored.

Bakura had seen more than his fair share of African wildlife while he had drifted from town to town, and made a point to avoid it, since most of it could either stampede or eat him. But Riu certainly seemed impressed by the little deer, and started down the hill slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. Sighing, Bakura followed her to the bottom, where she put down the basket. He sat down beside it, far more interested in the food than the gazelle.

Still watching them, Riu sat down on the opposite side of the basket. Bakura rifled around in it, tearing off a piece of the honey-sweetened bread and devouring it. He was about to move on to the cheese when something told him to look up.

Riu’s eyes were closed, and she was drinking in the scent of the twilight air as though it were fine wine. She had taken the wig off and leaned her head back, letting the wind run through the white locks that lay beneath. Her many layers of linens were almost as pure and white as her hair, as if she somehow found time in the day to clean herself and her clothing between cooking, taking care of her goats, and maintaining her herb garden.  

Bakura suddenly felt slightly humbled and self-conscious. His hair was a tousled, grimy mess, he hadn’t bathed in days, his cloak was worn and caked with blood, and here he was, sitting beside the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Granted, she wasn’t exactly the picture of fertility. Her chest and hips both rather flat and her frame was skinny, almost gangly. But as far as he was concerned, her face more than made up for that. Her features, however alien they would be to anyone else in Egypt, gave him an unconscious rapport with her that he had never known before.

He realized he was staring, and snarled at himself. She was still weak, pathetic, and foolish. It didn’t matter if she was at all like him. He would take her food and shelter until his foot was healed, and then he would leave. She wasn’t good for anything besides a tool, a means to an end.

Albeit a pretty tool…

Bakura realized she was looking at him curiously, as though watching his internal struggle between his teenage hormones and cold-hearted rationale, and he became flustered. “What?!”

“N-nothing,” she blinked and returned her gaze to the antelope, “I guess I was just thinking about how this field is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen… and it was dumb of me to think you… I mean... you’ve probably seen all kinds of exotic locations, being a merchant and all…”

Bakura arched an eyebrow. Riu seemed flustered, too, as she stared down at her lap and laced her fingers together. “Merchant?” he wondered.

“When… when you told me to take your necklaces, you said…”

Bakura grunted and set his forehead in his palm. Great. Who knew what stupid lie he had come up with while he was under the influence of hashish. Oh well, he had to go with it now and hope he got it right. “Yes… this place isn’t much compared to…” He sought for the name of an exotic location in his mind, grasping at the first one he thought of, “…Nubia.”

“You’ve been to Nubia?” Riu asked with a note of wonder in her voice, and Bakura smirked. She was gullible on top of everything else.

“Yes, I’ve seen the southern land of gold. Lots of dangerous animals there. Lions and snakes and hyenas, crocodiles in every stream.” He was making this up off the top of his head, but how would she ever know the difference? “But that was nothing compared to the mysterious, um, isle of Punt…” 

They started eating as Bakura regaled her with his wholly fictitious adventures. He got so into his storytelling that he accepted the jar of beer Riu had brought in the basket without a second thought, and the more he drank, the more animated and fantastic his stories became. Riu simply smiled and prompted him with questions, while she moved to the end of his leg and slowly started unwrapping the splint and bandages around his ankle. Bakura hardly noticed, the drugged beer putting him in high spirits and rendering him immune to pain.

She soon had a new split on his ankle, and wrapped it up with freshly stripped papyrus leaves. “So you were wrangling the thirty foot long crocodile to the ground… and then what?” Riu asked sweetly, trying not to giggle.

“Yesh, and the bastard had a mean right hook, too, and… hey... you drugged in my drink again, didn’t you, wo-mahn?” Bakura scowled. He wasn’t as hazy as he had been last time, but his story telling had taken on a rather fanciful quality, and if he thought about it, most of it sounded pretty stupid.

“Not as much as I did last time,” Riu covered her mouth to conceal her laughter, “I didn’t think you were going to cooperate with me any other way, and your bandage needed replacing.”

She scooted away from his leg, back over to the nearly emptied basket. “I added some herbs to the beer that should help heal it, too, but I don’t think your body needs any help. I’m surprised you’re able to walk around this early.”

“I heal good,” He tried to grin smugly, but it came off more crooked and goofy. He was about to continue with his story when the antelopes seemed to get agitated by a sound in the distance. The two humans paused, looking around to see what alarmed them, when they heard heavy footsteps coming down the path. Riu stood up to look over the grass.

“Whosh coming?” Bakura wondered, and he thought about standing up as well, but that required two functional legs and coordination, neither of which he had at the moment.

“No one, it’s just the bread merchants from the village. I’ve seen him and his sons around here before.”

“Wha?! Riu, get down!”

Riu didn’t have any time to react to the fact he had used her actual name, before the somewhat stoned thief grabbed her legs and yanked her back down into the grass. She stumbled, falling back on him with a yelp of surprise.

Bakura had been knocked onto his back, and Riu had fallen across his lap, looking thoroughly bewildered. She might have demanded to know what he was doing, but he reached over and clamped a hand over her mouth, pulling her close.

Bakura stilled even his breathing to listen to the distant footsteps, which had paused. He could hear distant voices asking each other if they had heard something strange. They conferred for a moment, before concluding it was probably just a bird, and continued on their way. It wasn’t until their footsteps had faded completely that Bakura released Riu.

She rubbed her mouth and glared up at him slightly, blushing furiously, “W-what was that for?”

Bakura blinked down at her. He hadn’t even known she _could_ glare. “Thossh were the guys that beat me. I don’t think they like people like us musch.”

“What? Oh,” Riu looked up and recalled that she had taken off her wig. Sheepishly, she looked down and shifted her weight, trying not to lean against his chest so much, but it was difficult in the position he had yanked her into. “They’re just merchants, though. Why would they beat you? I thought you said thieves ambushed… Bakura…?”

An odd, wide-eyed look had spread across Bakura’s features when she adjusted her weight. While the small amount of hashish in his system had been able to numb the pain of Riu gently moving his ankle, it was fighting a losing battle against the wave of pain that ripped through his back once he fell - onto some rocks, no less. He dig his fingers into the ground and tried to sit up, biting back his pain, but the potent marijuana was affecting his muscles. His face must have been screwed up into a look of silent agony, since Riu quickly sat up and shook his shoulders. “Bakura, what’s wrong?!”

“My – augh!” Her shaking did _not_ help, and he managed to bat one of her arms away while he hissed, trying to swallow a stream of vile curses. He was coherent enough to know that if she found out about his whiplashes, at now of all times, his story would definitely be brought into question. What would stop her from turning him over to the Pharaoh’s army? He couldn’t exactly run away. He turned onto his side halfway, trying to prop himself up with little success.

“Is it your foot? Here, let me,” Riu grasped one of his hands, letting him roughly grab her arm to use as an anchor, but then she reached back and rested a hand on his back to help support him. The howl of pain that followed surprised her enough to knock her back. The antelope were scared into retreating farther back into the field.

He managed to bring himself upright without her assistance, hunched over, breathing raggedly and snarling through his bared teeth. His gaze shifted, red-tinted eyes narrowed at her from behind a curtain of tangled white bangs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… What happened to your back…?” She asked in a small voice, edging away from his glare. He just growled and used his walking stick to stand up, hobbling angrily back up the hill.

“Wait! Please, Bakura, I’m sorry!” She repeated, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. He heard her quickly gathering things back into her basket and running up the hill after him, but he didn’t stop. Maybe if he gave her the cold shoulder, she’d forget about his back.

Bakura made his way back to the path, standing in the middle of the now moonlit road. The thief tried to choose which direction to head in. He wasn’t sure why. It should have been an easy decision. There was nothing keeping him from continuing down the road, away from the goatherd and her house forever. He had food in his stomach, a walking stick, and his ankle was freshly bandaged. He was set to go. The only thing that awaited him in the other direction was Riu, who would insist on looking at his back and would discover his secret.

He knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill her, even if she was going to betray him. He was a thief, not a murderer.

Bakura heard the girl making her way down the hill, slowing down when she saw him standing there, considering both directions. She remained in the grass, and he could feel her worried eyes on him. He looked over his shoulder at her.

Her hands were clasped together as she stood amongst the waves of grass, the wind blowing her ivory hair into her face. Her hair did nothing to dull the look of abject sadness on her face, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. What was wrong with her? She should be a bitter loner like he was. The concept of someone _wanting_ him around was rather alien, and he didn’t know quite what to feel. He knew he shouldn’t take it personally, though. She was just lonely, pitiful girl who probably would’ve latched onto anyone that ended up as her patient, no matter how rude or cold-hearted they were.

 A lonely, pitiful girl, with large, grieving brown eyes could make his heart feel heavy with only a look…

He sighed, and he started back along the path towards Riu’s house.


	7. Scars and Reasons

Once they had made their way back to the house, Bakura sat on the mat stoically and waited for Riu to start questioning him. She didn’t disappoint.

“What happened? Did you fall on some rocks? Please, let me look, I have something I can use on bruises.”

“It’s nothing!”

Riu frowned and sat down behind him, sighing. “Bakura, why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Why must you insist on bothering me so much? I’ll be fine,” he grunted. The thief glared firmly at the wall in front of him - but his scowling faltered slightly when he felt Riu’s hands touch his shoulders hesitantly, and then start to knead slowly.

“H-hey, what…” It was the only protest he managed to utter. She managed to avoid his wounds, her hands never leaving his shoulders or the back of his neck. He was rather uncomfortable and unfamiliar with such touch, but somehow, she managed to banish his anger, making his posture slump. “What’re you…?”

“You… you need to relax,” Riu said in a nervous tone, and Bakura looked over his shoulder at her. Her eyes were closed, and she wore an odd expression, as though she was trying - and failing - to not think about what she was doing. It was dark, but he could almost swear he saw a blush, too.

A faint smirk crept across his lips, and he felt his own eyes closing of their own accord, a low ‘hmm’ sound rising from his throat. This wasn’t so bad. She could do this as often as she wished—

Until he felt her hands slip beneath the collar of his cloak and start to pull it downwards.

He might have turned slightly red in the face himself, as she eased the cloak off and exposed his shoulders. At least, until it got down to the part where his wounds began. Instead, he almost screamed.

Riu was taken aback by his sudden outburst, not to mention the fact that Bakura’s cloak was stiff and stuck to his back. She peeled it downwards slowly, and Bakura tried not to writhe in pain, hissing raggedly and stiffening his shoulders.

“Ra…” Riu mumbled, and he twisted his head to leer at her menacingly. She was grimacing at the bloody mess that was his back, “What _happened_ to you…?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He growled, turning away.

She ran her fingers along the skin next to one of the long slices, causing his skin to flinch. But she said nothing at for a long moment.

“Here, Bakura, you stay put, I’ll go get some water.”

Bakura watched her leave, before muttering and pulling his arms out of his cloak. It wasn’t much good to him now. He tossed it to the side, the stolen goods tucked into its hidden pockets jangling. With it gone, he was left wearing only in his calf-long linen kilt.

After some time, Riu returned, carrying a jug on one shoulder and a basket full of things in another. She paused in the doorway, blinking down at him as though she were seeing him for the first time.

“What?” He snapped.

She shook her head quickly, and Bakura thought he saw another blush, before she moved behind him and set her materials down. Riu dipped a scrap of soft flax-spun cloth into the water.  She pressed the cold, wet cloth against his back gently. His muscles went tense, and he ground his teeth together in a futile attempt to distract himself from the stinging pain.

The farm girl slowly started swabbing his back, cleaning away the caked, coagulated blood and some of the scab and infection. Soon enough, he got used to the cold water and her careful scrubbing, and the pain dulled. The thief did his best not to shiver, but having a bare, wet back in the middle of a cool night made it difficult.

“Cold?” Riu asked softly, and he heard her scoot a little closer.

“I’m f-fine…” He mumbled, unable to edge away from her. While his back was cold, his face was far from it. He hung his head, hoping his cheeks weren’t really as red as they felt.

But with Riu only inches away from his back, he was able to share her body warmth. It got hotter when she started spreading something warm across his wounds. He flinched, then made a face as he caught whiff of the ointment, “Ugh, what is that? It smells like hot donkey piss.”

Riu laughed, her hands moving in slow circles, “It’ll help numb the cuts on your back, and let them close properly. It also rather good for clearing the head and nose, isn’t it?”

At the sound of Riu’s soft, happy laughter, Bakura had to smirk to himself, until a question came to him. “Just where did you learn so much about medicine and herbs?”

“Oh,” Riu seemed hesitant to talk, “My… my father use to be a doctor, an herbalist at a temple for Sekhmet.”

“This hardly looks like the dwelling of a doctor.”

“He was… disgraced,” Riu sighed, “After going from high to low class, he did what he could. But half the reason he’s always drafted to help build tombs is for his free medical knowledge.”

Bakura arched an eyebrow. Did he actually hear some bitterness in Riu’s voice? “I bet I can guess why he was disgraced.”

“Yes, for having a freak of a…” Riu suddenly cut herself off, as though catching herself, “…daughter. And then, a stillborn child that killed the mother. They thought he was cursed.”

“Foolish superstitions,” Bakura muttered. It wasn’t quite sympathy. More of an insult, since her own father was a priest-physician, but it was close.

Riu just chuckled softly. “Things have the power people give them,” she said softly, running her ointment-covered hands over his shoulder blades, “But sometimes, I think there really is an order to the world… When I listen to the old legends, and then watch the sun rise, or a goat give birth, or even just feel the wind in my hair… it’s hard to deny that there isn’t some magic out there.”

“Foolish people are prone to foolish superstitions,” he said sharply, but Riu hardly seemed phased.

“You must have felt it at some point…”

Bakura narrowed his eyes. Unbidden, memories of the slaughter of his village bubbled to the surface. He _had_ felt something  terribly dark on that blood-filled day, as he saw the high priests, dressed in their robes and gold, orchestrate the murder of his friends and family… and a piece of that darkness had wormed its way into his soul.

“Yes,” he uttered lowly, “I have. But it was hateful, primal, and fueled by the blood of…” He shook his head, silencing himself, “If such things exist, they come only from the darkness of the human soul.”

Riu was silent for a while, apparently considering this, before she lifted one of her hands and brushed back some of Bakura’s white hair. “You’ve lived in the night too long.”

Bakura bristled slightly at the sensation of her fingers in his hair again - bristled, _not_ shivered, not at all - “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a world outside darkness.” For a moment, Riu’s voice sounded older, almost ominous, as though destiny were speaking through the young girl, “Even in the darkness… there are still the moon and stars.”

“Your vagueness does not impress me.”

“I mean…” Riu spoke softly, and Bakura could somehow hear the smile in her voice, “Everything exists in both darkness and light. There’s darkness in the light, and light in the darkness. Shadows in the day, stars in the night… Nothing can devote itself to one or the other alone.”

“But what if something did?”

“Then… it would be out of balance until it found its counterpart.”

Bakura had no reply. Their theological debate trailed off as he took to mulling over what was said, and Riu continued to coat Bakura’s torn back with the foul-smelling ointment. The medicine in it had set to work, and the pain in his back was numbed. Just having the dried blood and dead tissue wiped away made it feel better. He could almost be at ease… but then Riu touched a scar on his back.

“Kura, some of these lashes aren’t new, aren’t they?”

“It doesn’t matter— wait, what did you call me?”

“Um...” Riu trailed off, sounding embarrassed, her hands pausing. He didn’t have to see her face to know she was blushing.

“I’m not one of your goats,” he snorted, though he made himself sound more irritated than he really was, “You don’t need to give me a nickname.”

“Sorry,” she apologized in little more than a whisper, her hands resuming their circling, but she seemed subdued now.

The silence stretched, and Bakura could feel her staring at his back. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he waited for the other shoe to drop, waiting for her to figure it out, if she hadn’t already.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly, “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Bakura blinked, and he turned around to give her a dumbfounded look.

Riu looked up at him, lowering her hands. “I won’t ask about them either.”

He gave her a hard stare, and her own soft gaze somehow met it evenly.

The silence was overwhelming.

He had to ask.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I have given you no reason to do me any favors, girl. You _had_ no reason to take me in, to feed me and tend to my wounds.”

“Do I need a reason?”

He scowled. “I hope you don’t expect me to repay you in any fashion.”

“Bakura…” she smiled slightly, raising a hand slowly. Soundlessly, she touched some of his bangs, stroking them back out of his eyes, “You already have.”

Caught off guard, Bakura jerked back from her hand, looking down at her with slightly wide-eyed confusion and a hint of a blush.

“You want a reason?” Riu withdrew her fingers, “You talk to me. You’re just… with me. I can be myself around you. I don’t have to hide beneath that wig. I know it’s stupid, but…” She sighed, her eyelids lowering, “You’re the closest thing to a friend I’ve ever had.”

The thief just sat there, unsure of what to make of her words. He should have called her any number of names, accused her of being weak, pitiful, an emotional child. He should have spat and snarled, insulted her, laughed in her face.

But instead, all he did was lower his shoulders and turn his gaze to the floor.

“Don’t get attached. I’m not going to stay.”

“I never thought you would.” Riu smiled again, though now it was small and sad. “But…” She continued, her voice wavering and uncertain, “I’m… I’m glad you didn’t leave earlier.”

Bakura didn’t say anything, and Riu moved behind him again to start applying papyrus leaves to his wounds, wrapping makeshift bandages around his chest. He closed his eyes, and finally relaxed.

Riu’s arms slipped around him from behind, something she had to do in order to wrap the bandages around his chest. When they lingered around him for a moment after she was finished, though, he still didn’t say a word.

Aloud, at least.

_I can’t say I regret it either…_

If she didn’t need a reason to help him, maybe he didn’t need a reason to stay.


	8. Provisions

Bakura couldn’t sleep.

He had been able to slumber for only a few hours after Riu had finished tending to his back. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable physically. On the contrary, the bandages and ointment made his back feel better than it had in days. This time, it was his mind that was distressed.

He wasn’t even sure what exactly he was mulling over. Maybe he was trying to avoid realizing it. Sighing and rubbing his forehead, he turned his head to the side and blinked when he saw Riu sleeping several feet away, curled up on the plain floor, her back to the thief.

It struck Bakura as odd. He had never seen her sleeping before. She was always awake before him, always already up and about, busying herself with chores. It seemed like she hardly slept at all. If she did, he doubted it was usually down here. This time of year, most people took to the much cooler roof.

She looked vulnerable. How could she be so trusting, to sleep in the same room with someone dangerous enough to deserve, and strong enough to bear the bite of the whip multiple times? For all her philosophy and medical knowledge, she hardly knew a thing when it came to practical matters.

But then, in the back of his mind, he knew damn well that he wouldn’t have harmed a hair on her body, not for any reward or reason he could fathom. Maybe she understood him better than he did.

His idle pondering was halted abruptly when Riu made a soft sound. Bakura held his breath, watching her shift her weight - what, had he been thinking too loudly? - but she was still asleep, although agitated for some reason. Curious, he inched closer, dragging his broken ankle and sitting up slightly to get a better look at her face.

Though it was hidden by her white hair and the darkness, what he could see of her face looked flush. She was hugging herself tightly, and her breathing seemed irregular. Bakura frowned, puzzled. Was she having some sort of nightmare? He shook her shoulder lightly.

Riu only hugged herself more tightly and whimpered. Somehow, it didn’t seem fearful or pained, but almost… happy? Bakura ignored it since it confused him, and shook her harder. “What’s with you, woman? Wake up—”

She rolled onto her back, half due to his insistent tugging, half under her own power, putting her almost directly beneath him. He froze, the words strangled in this throat.

Riu was _smiling_.

Her eyes opened partly, and she stared up at him with a sleepy, languid expression, probably still more or less asleep until his mortified expression registered in her head and jolted her awake.

“Bakura, wh-what are you doing?” She stuttered, looking anywhere but at his face. He was surprised she didn’t bolt, but then he realized his hand was still clamped on her shoulder. He quickly let go and scooted away, and she did likewise. Her eyes fell on his cloak, and she quickly grabbed it, scrambling to her feet.

“I-I have to go, go wash this! Y-you get some sleep,” Riu stammered, holding the crumpled red material in front of herself self-consciously, and before Bakura could say a word, she all but ran out of the house, almost stumbling over her dress.

He blinked at the wall dumbly, sitting in the early morning silence for a long time.

There was no way he was getting to sleep now.

He reached for his walking stick, and pulled himself upright.

***

 

Bakura didn’t have any particular destination in mind as he walked along the shores of the Nile. He wasn’t seeking out Riu. If anything, he was avoiding her. He glanced over at the east, watching the start of the sunrise. The edge of the sky lightened as dawn approached. 

Normally, he would have been going to sleep about now, but his sleep schedule had been interrupted by his near-death experience. Still, he decided that it wasn’t the worst time of day to be awake, as he watched geese congregate in the reeds surrounding the river.

Bakura noticed his red, white-striped cloak hanging on a nearby tree, dripping with water. He hobbled over to it, looking it over. All the blood had been washed away, not to mention countless layers of dirt and grime that he had accumulated on his travels. He checked the pockets. Everything was still in place, too. His eyes wandered over the water.

Riu was standing in the shallow part of the river, holding her dress up. A look of grave concern was written across her face, and he could tell she was thinking about something far more important than what had happened earlier. He made his way to the water’s edge.

“What are you doing out there, girl?” He asked loudly, so he could be heard over the rushing waters. She glanced back at him, shaking her head slowly.

“This isn’t good,” she replied, hardly audible.

“What isn’t?”

“The river. I’ve never seen it so low. The water should be over my head, where I’m standing.”

Bakura furrowed his brow. He was not a farmer, nor had he grown up among them. He wasn’t entirely aware of the rhythms of the Nile and their severe repercussions. “And?”

“It means the floods are going to be late,” she said, sounding defeated, “And we’re already running low on food.”

The thief snorted. “Don’t be stupid.”

Riu turned around, looking at him with a mixture of slight irritation and confusion. “Bakura, I’ve already run out of onions and cabbage, and there’s only one more pile of grain stored.”

“We’re surrounded by food.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, incredulous.

Bakura reached into his hanging cloak, pulling out his dagger. He pointed it in Riu’s direction and smirked. “Don’t believe me?” Riu just stared at him with one eyebrow raised, and he looked around, grinning when he spotted exactly what he needed. “Just watch and learn, _woman_.”

A sizable wild goose was grooming itself a few yards away, heedless of the humans around the river. Bakura steeled himself. This wouldn’t be easy on his back or his ankle, but he had to succeed.

Riu was watching.

He sank into the reeds, trying not to cringe as his motion, despite being slow and careful, jerked the wounds on his back. It wasn’t easy to crouch when only one leg was fully functioning, either. He stabbed his walking stick into the dirt and balanced against it. The rational part of his mind knew he was being stupid and putting unnecessary strain on his injuries, but now that he’d opened his mouth, there was no turning back.

Bakura crawled along through the reeds, biting back a pained hiss as his ankle bumped against a rock. The goose was unaware. Just a few more feet…

This was not the first time he had hunted, but it was the first time he had hunted with a broken ankle and a torn back. He inhaled, and once he was within range, he set his stick down, tensed his one good leg, and leapt.

The goose finally noticed, letting out a rude honk and flapping its wings furiously as the boy fell short of his intended target, landing face-first in the mud. His breath was knocked out of him, the quick motion had jostled his ankle, and his quarry was taking to the air.  His free hand moving quicker than his mind, he reached out and grabbed the goose’s scaly leg. It beat its wings wildly, loose feathers fluttering into the air as it writhed, turning itself around to honk and snap at its attacker with all its might.

Bakura swore at it just as viciously, finally managing to prop himself up. He yanked the bird back, trying to pin it bodily and grab hold of its neck, but all he got was a fistful of sharp feathers. He finally managed to wrap his fingers around the sinuous neck. The goose started running and flailing its wings, dragging the gangly thief behind it through the mud.

“What the?! Stupid bird, die already!” Bakura nearly howled as his ankle was thrashed mercilessly, clutching the goose’s neck until his knuckles were white. Finally, the goose stumbled, caught in a bush, and Bakura bore down upon it mercilessly with his knife.

When he finally rose from the brush, leaning against a tree for balance, blood stained his hand and mud covered his body.

“Hah!” he rasped, trying to catch his breath and ignore the agony ringing through his leg and back, “We feast!”

He held the dispatched goose up triumphantly, a wild grin on his mud-streaked face. For the amount of pain he was in and the coating of mud he had acquired, it was something of a Pyrrhic victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Riu stared at him in disbelief from the river, before climbing ashore and shaking her head. “Bakura, do you even _want_ your leg to heal?”

Bakura scowled, his pride deflated slightly. Wasn’t she the _least_ bit impressed?

She must have noticed his slumped shoulders, since her disapproving expression softened as she approached him, becoming a slight smile. “Well… I never have had goose before…” She reached up, tousling his hair gently, “Nice catch.”

He had to fight to keep a stupid grin off his face.

“Now, come on. I’ll get you some beer, and you can wash that thing off in the river. Not to mention yourself,” She made a face at the mud, putting an arm around him hesitantly to offer herself as a crutch.

For once, he graciously accepted her assistance as they went back to the mud brick house, picking up his stick along the way. Somehow, her compliment had been more satisfying than vanquishing the goose itself, and he couldn’t help but look smug.

As he glanced over at the girl, though, a thought struck him and made him disgruntled.

Why should he care about impressing some peasant goatherd in the first place?

He growled mentally.

_Damnable girl, what are you doing to me?_

***

Once his pain was numbed thanks to a mug of Riu’s drug-laced beer, Bakura had happily cleaned himself and the goose carcass off in the Nile, plucking the feathers off, sawing off the head and feet and casting the refuse into the water. The last thing they needed was a hungry scavenger attracted by the rotting flesh. Riu eagerly left the messy job of gutting it to the thief, and she all but turned green in the face when Bakura casually cut a hole in the rear of the carcass and pulled out a fistful of bloody gizzards.

As he prepared the goose, Bakura pointed out various wild herbs that grew nearby, and told Riu how to make nets and traps for fish and fowl. He’d been forced to learn a lot while having to feed himself on the road.

It was evening by the time they had gathered all the ingredients for their small feast. Riu made a new loaf of bread, gathering firewood and some vegetables and wild plants while Bakura was busy with the goose. Soon it was twilight, and the two teenagers were sitting on the flat roof of the mud brick house. A fire crackled in the cooking pit, and Bakura had constructed a makeshift spit to roast the goose. Riu had convinced him to let her turn it, though, after he showed her how. The repetitive motion would have overtaxed his injured back.

So he sat on the edge, letting his _shora_ down. It had been a long day, one of the first he hadn’t slept through in a long time, but it had not been unpleasant. He had enjoyed showing off his knowledge, and Riu was a quick study. She looked so grateful and relieved to know starvation wasn’t as imminent as it had seemed. In a way, he guessed, he had saved her life.

 _I guess this makes us even_ , he thought quietly, looking back at the girl as she turned the spit in one hand, resting her cheek in her other palm. She looked lost in thought as she stared into the fire, the flickering light playing over her face and throwing strange shadows.

“Contemplating the nature of the universe again?” Bakura snorted, breaking the amicable silence that had fallen over the roof. His tone wasn’t spiteful, though.

“Hm?” She blinked, her trance broken, the gaze of her soft brown eyes shifting to face him.

“You seem very deep in thought. Not still worried about the river, are you?”

“Oh… no,” she smiled distantly, looking back at the fire, “It’s nothing.”

He turned to face her, frustrated. Conversation was not one of his strong points. “Tell me.”

She only responded with quiet laughter, and he growled. “What’s so funny?”

“Careful, Bakura…” She grinned slightly.

“You’re not making any sense!”

“You almost sound like you care.” Her lips curled into a slight smile, her eyelids lowering as she stared at him. Bakura was stupefied for a moment. That expression was dangerously close to the one she had given him this morning, when she was dreaming about who knows what.

“I…” He clamped his mouth shut and muttered after a moment, “It’s dull, just sitting here.”

“I don’t know,” Riu said wistfully, glancing away with what strangely resembled shame in her eyes, “I think it’s kind of nice.”

“Feh,” Bakura sounded disgusted, “Tell me, is there _anything_ you don’t like, woman? Anything that makes you mad? You act so damn passive and pleased all the time, it’s downright irritating.”

Riu shut her eyes tightly, her voice dropping. “I don’t like it when you talk to me like that.”

Bakura’s rant died in his throat. He was caught off guard by her quiet reproach. Ruffled, he adjusted his weight and folded his arms, searching for something to say.

“Well… you just don’t seem terribly hard to please.”

“Heh… I guess not,” Riu conceded in a weary voice, though she seemed distracted now. The thief swore he saw a look of pain flit across her features. He almost wondered what was wrong aloud. Luckily, he caught himself, and tried to study her and draw his own conclusions.

She changed the hand that was turning the spit, stretching out her neck and looking uncomfortable. Bakura tilted his head. Had she somehow hurt herself during the day? He couldn’t remember her doing anything too strenuous, except working the mill for a few hours.

Realization hit him. She had to slave over that thing for hours _every_ day, all for one measly loaf of bread. Bread he usually devoured the whole of without a second thought. The thief shook his head. Before he met the girl, he hardly knew the meaning of the word guilt, and now he felt bad for eating the bread she _made_ for him?

Of course, the way he insulted and snapped at her constantly didn’t ease his conscience much.

He grumbled under his breath. He didn’t like feeling like he owed anything to anyone, and he debated internally for a moment. Coming to a conclusion, he silently moved over to her back and reached over, taking the handle of the spit. Since she still had hold of it, his hand wrapped around her own, and he helped her turn it begrudgingly.

Surprised, Riu turned to look up at him, “Bakura, your back—”

“And what about yours?” He countered, staring down at her stoically.

“I’m fine.”

“Just be quiet,” he instructed, trying to sound gruff, but his voice ended up soft instead.

She complied wordlessly, lowering her head.

This reaction probably didn’t have so much to do with his command, as it did with the fact that he had started slowly massaging her shoulder with his free hand.

The goose almost burned.


	9. The Wrath of Set

The days and nights passed slowly. Riu managed to convince Bakura not to try fowling again until his leg was healed. Instead, he helped her make a net, and taught her how to fish. After that, they ate carp and catfish almost every night. Riu tended to Bakura’s wounds regularly. Coupled with her doctoring and the fact that the thief did indeed ‘heal good’, it wasn’t long until his back was well on the way to recovery. It’d be good as new, save for a few extra scars.

His ankle wasn’t healing as quickly, and he would probably have the slightest of limps for the rest of his days. He got to the point where he felt that he could walk without the aid of the stick, but Riu thought otherwise, and would pin his ears back if she caught him stumbling around without it.

They spent a lot of time doing nothing in particular. Bakura would accompany Riu when she would herd her goats to greener grazing pastures, claiming he was too bored stay at home. This sometimes took the entire night, and they would sit in the field while the goats drank and grazed. They sat silently at first, Riu’s attempts at luring him into conversation usually only eliciting a disinterested grunt or retort form the thief. But as time passed, they started talking idly and stargazing. Their discussions touched on many subjects, though sometimes Bakura became deathly quiet, especially when it came to his past. So did Riu, oddly enough, and they had a silent agreement on what subjects to avoid. 

He didn’t insult her quite as much, and Riu still did most of the talking. Bakura listened, though, no matter how trivial or deep her subject matter, and that seemed good enough to her. Part of the whole reason he stopped calling her stupid was that he found it difficult to truly think of her as such. The way she talked about magic, he could almost start to believe.

 And sometimes, after their conversations had trailed into peaceful silence and they simply sat among the swaying grass, feeling the midnight breeze and staring at the stars, he could almost feel it, too. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he’d occasionally glance over at her and end up with his heart in his throat, unable to breath. She’d smile at him in a certain way sometimes, and he’d be struck nervous and stupid. Sometimes, he’d be sitting beside her, and he’d get an irresistible, inexplicable urge to touch her, and the thief would have to sit on his hands.

All of this was wholly unfamiliar to him. It made him agitated, confused, flustered and most of all, frustrated. The nameless emotions that assaulted him whenever she complimented him, whenever she laughed, whenever she brushed against him accidentally were far different than what he was used to dealing with. He was anger, he was bitterness. He was not this light-headed, warm-faced dizziness.

It didn’t always make him a very pleasant person to be around. While he had stopped insulting her casually, she would sometimes be entirely too nice to him at entirely the wrong time, and he’d rebuke her to prevent himself from… well, he didn’t want to think about what he really wanted to do. He actually managed to make her mad a few times.

Now was one of those times.

Bakura had fallen on his broken ankle and started swearing like there was no tomorrow, and Riu rushed to his side as though she were his mother, helping him to his feet and keeping him steady. But at that moment, he couldn’t stand her being so close (or, rather, that he could stand it far too well) and shoved her away, demanding she stop treating him like a child. Riu had bristled and suggested that perhaps he should stop acting like one, before stalking away from him in a huff and disappearing behind the house.

He muttered to himself irritably, running his hand through his hair. The thief wasn’t about to go apologize, but he had to do _something_ , walk off his frustration somehow, get out of the house before he exploded. That was probably his entire problem. He had been cooped up with Riu far too long, and some cool evening air would clear his head. He started limping away from the house, and was walking down the road away from it before he knew it.

What always made him feel better…?

Oh yes.

Stealing.

He headed towards the village.

***

 

 _This is stupid,_ his more reasonable side informed him as he made his way into the village, carefully tucking his hair back into his shora and trying to be as inconspicuous as his bright clothing would allow. _You never steal from the same place twice._

But everyone in the village seemed distracted, milling around as though preparing for something. Colorful decorations were set out everywhere, and he could hear distant music. The smell of food was strong in the air. His stomach growled, but he was determined not to make the mistake of stealing bread again.

Besides, it seemed like there were things much better than bread here.

He skulked through the crowd, careful that his limp wasn’t too evident. He tried to keep to the shadows and alleys in hopes that no one would recognize his unmistakable cloak. He came to the central plaza of the little village, where the crowd was especially thick. He finally managed to spot what had drawn such an audience, and blinked at the spectacle.

Men, dressed in costumes and wooden masks that mimicked the gods, were acting out what the thief assumed was some important legend. A few people in upper-class clothing and jewelry watched on from chairs, fanned by servants, while the actors pantomimed a great battle.

Bakura glanced around, his hands itching for activity. With everyone’s attention on the actors, the crowd almost begged to be pick-pocketed. In fact, he thought he saw another boy carefully separating a woman from her golden rings. Bakura narrowed his eyes. No, this was _too_ easy. It was beneath his abilities. He started making his way around the parameter.

He leaned into the shadow of a doorway, glancing inside the empty house. Or perhaps it was a store, he couldn’t tell. Either way, the actors seemed to be using at as their temporary dressing room. There was a woman applying exaggerated makeup with one hand, holding a mirror in the other. Bakura’s eyes wandered around the room. There wasn’t anything especially valuable in it, and he was about to give up when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

It was strange. It was large. It would be difficult to hide in his cloak.

It was a challenge.

Grinning, he slipped into the room, sneaking past the woman and her mirror.

***

Bakura was very proud of himself.

He was also very sore, since this was the longest he had walked without the stick since his ankle was broken, but proud nonetheless.

It was almost night by the time he saw the familiar mud brick house on the horizon, and he picked up his speed a little, carrying his stolen cargo under his arm. He was almost home.

Bakura paused. He wasn’t really starting to think of Riu’s house as his own home, was he? That odd warm feeling crept up his spine, and he shook his head angrily. Pangs in his empty stomach prevented him from getting too upset, though, and he wondered if Riu had made any supper. He hoped she had forgiven him enough to share it with him. He wasn’t entirely sure how he would explain his new acquisition to her, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

A stranger in the field distracted him from his thoughts. It was a little girl, her black hair held back in the two traditional locks. The thief slipped into the concealing shadows of a palm tree surrounded by papyrus plants, watching her curiously. The girl was trying to feed one of Riu’s goats, chasing after the uninterested animal and waving a fistful of grass around, giggling all the while.

He eventually spotted Riu, who made her way over to the girl and showed her how to get the goats to take food out of her hand. The girl did so eagerly, and Riu sat down on a rock, smiling… sadly?

Bakura couldn’t help but notice that her eyes red and puffy around the edges, and he frowned, becoming subdued. His snapping hadn’t upset her that much, had it?

The little girl noticed Riu’s sad eyes as well, and became bored with the goats, going up to the farm girl. She seemed to know Riu, and tugged on her hand, asking aloud what Bakura was wondering internally, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Kesi,” Riu tried to smile convincingly, but neither Kesi nor Bakura were fooled.

“You look sad,” the child pointed out the obvious.

Riu just looked away, her shoulders slumping. “I just miss someone.”

“When will they be back?” Kesi asked, and Riu just shook her head, biting her lip.

“I don’t think he’s coming back, Kesi. Please, don’t worry about it.”

Bakura was confused for a moment, before he remembered that he had taken off without a word earlier, and when they were both upset. Guilt suddenly weighed down his soul, and he felt very foolish. He had been gone for hours. It never occurred to him that Riu would think he had fulfilled the bitter promise of leaving he made weeks ago. 

Kesi frowned at the news, and hugged Riu, clinging to her like only a child would. The goatherd smiled faintly and reciprocated the embrace, closing her eyes. It felt like someone had reached into Bakura’s chest and was crushing his heart, digging their claws in. Part of him wanted nothing more than to walk over and hug her too, pride be damned, and he might have, if a shrieking voice hadn’t started railing at the farm girl.

“Filthy peasant, get your hands off my child!” It was an older woman, and her dress trailed behind her as she stormed towards Riu. She wore too much makeup, and she had more cheap jewelry on her person than Bakura had seen in all of the carts of the ill-reputed merchants he had robbed.

Riu quickly stood and stepped away from Kesi, bowing to the woman with far more respect than the Bakura thought she deserved. The woman grabbed her daughter by the wrist roughly, yanking her away from Riu as though the goatherd was a hungry lion, “Kesi, what did I tell you about fraternizing with commoners? We’ve already spent all day at the festival. You don’t need to be running off and talking to servants.”

Kesi sighed and went to her mother’s side, lowering her head.

“I’m sorry, Nailah. Kesi just wanted to feed the goats, please don’t be angry with her,” Riu tried to explain, defending the girl.

Nailah narrowed her eyes venomously. “You shall _not_ address _me_ by name, peasant! Don’t think my husband and I don’t know what an abomination you are. They told us all about you and your father when they gave you to us as servants. I should bring you in for a beating just for putting your cursed hands _near_ my daughter!”

Riu backed away, raising her hands defensively, and Bakura had to keep himself from snarling.  Nailah continued her verbal assault.

“Ra himself must loath you, you wretched creature! I know the way you slink about at night, like some sort of pet of the dark gods—”

Bakura was inspired. He took out what he had stolen from the village.

“ _Yesss,_ ” he hissed in his best evil voice, muffled by the wooden mask as he rose out of the shadows, his red cloak billowing in the wind ominously, “ _And we are quite attached to our pet, so I suggest you leave her be._ ”

The woman’s eyes widened. At least, he thought they did. It was difficult to see out of the tiny holes carved in the eyes of the mask. Bakura wished she could see his sinister grin. He spread his arms for effect, his loose sleeves blown back, “ _Or face the wrath of Set, the crimson god of chaos!_ ”

Nailah backed up, stammering in confusion, and Bakura tilted his head back, lifting the long, hollow muzzle of Set mask up to the darkening sky. Without warning, he let out the most unholy, inhuman howl his lungs could muster. Nailah let out an impressive shriek of her own, nearly tripping over her linen dress as she grabbed her daughter by the wrist and ran out of the field.

Bakura could hardly wait for her to get out of hearing range before he started laughing uproariously, falling to his knees. He managed to gather his wits long enough to pull the mask off his head, shaking his hair free. He looked up at Riu with a silly grin, rubbing a laughter induced tear away from his eye.

She stared at him, shock and disbelief written across her silent features. He managed to quiet himself, snickering, “Did you _see_ the expression on that hag’s face? It was priceless!”

He was cut off when Riu all but flew at him, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. Bakura blinked stupidly as he found himself in the sudden hug, looking down at the girl. He could see new tears gathering in the corners of her eye as she nuzzled her face into his throat, clutching him as though he might disappear into the ether at any moment.

“R…Riu?” The thief’s voice faltered. She only responded by leaning against him, and he could feel one of her cold tears trickle down his neck.

He was suddenly short of breath, and it wasn’t just because she was crushing his windpipe. Warmth spread over his face. He could feel her breathing against his collarbone, and the sensation was doing something to him. Unbidden, his hands slowly lifted, and he knew they were headed for her back, where they would complete the embrace…

But Riu seemed to realize what she was doing and pulled away sharply. Her face was bright red, and she almost looked horrified at herself, staring at the ground with wide, troubled eyes.

“I’m sorry, I… I thought… where did…” She sniffled, brushing a few loose strands her real hair back beneath her wig and out of her face, “Where did you go?”

He stared at her intently. His mind was still in half a daze, and his heart was still beating a little faster than it should have been.

He shifted his weight. The moonlight always had a stunning effect on her face. If he leaned forward, he could have just…

The thief must have had a strange look in his eyes, since Riu backed away fractionally, gazing up at him with uncertain brown eyes. “…Bakura…?”

Bakura shook his head, snapping himself out of his trance and inhaling mechanically.

“I went…” He swallowed, “I went for a walk… to the village.” His embarrassment caught up with him, and he growled defensively, “Am I allowed to do that, girl, or do I have to clear it with you before I get out to stretch my legs?”

Riu almost looked a little relieved as he reverted back to his usual self, and she shook her head. “No… I’m just glad you’re home.” The corner of her lip curled into a shy smile, before her eyes fell on the wooden Set head. “And where’d you get that?”

  
“Er…” His mind searched for an excuse, but between his hormones and embarrassment, he wasn’t as clever as he usually was. “They were having some sort of celebration at the village… I… found it.”

“I’m sure,” her smile became a faint smirk, “Kura, if you’re going to steal, why not steal something _useful_?”

“What?! I…” Bakura scowled. She had figured him out after all. He hmphed and lifted his head, “I took it as a challenge.”

Riu shook her head in exasperation, standing up and brushing herself off. “Come on. Let’s go give them their mask back. We don’t need it.” She grinned slightly, “Nailah doesn’t come around often.”

Bakura grunted and let her help him to his feet, “But I just got back!”

“Too bad.” She chided softly, taking hold of his arm as they started back down the path.

Bakura mumbled under his breath. “It’s not like anyone caught me.”

“And what if they had?” Riu looked over at him, concern in her voice, “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you stole something?” She touched his back lightly.

The boy looked away. “It wouldn’t happen again.”

Silently, though, he had a far different response.

_Yes, I met you._


	10. Dancing and Dreaming

“Who was that crone, anyway?” Bakura wondered as they headed down the dark path.

“She’s the wife of the scribe that owns the land my father and I live on,” Riu looked at the sky as they walked, the waters of the Nile guiding their path, “For minding his goats and some of his crops, he gave us that house, but neither of them are terribly good people.”

“Then why don’t you leave?”

“Huh?” Riu looked over at Bakura, bewildered at the very suggestion, “My father and I have nowhere else to go. He’s become the black sheep of his family. All of our food comes from the land the scribe—”

“I don’t have a home,” Bakura snorted, “Or land. I’m free to come and go as I please.”

Riu was quiet. She looked down, “I like to think you do.”

“Eh?”

“My home is your home, Bakura… you don’t have to leave.” She paused, “You’re welcome there. I can explain things to my father, I’m sure he would understand.”

Bakura clamped a hand on Riu’s shoulder and turned her around, so she was facing him. He narrowed his eyes, “Are you asking me to stay, girl?”

Riu looked up at him with a plaintive expression, “No… like you said… you’re free to come and go.” She hesitated, lowering her gaze, her voice dropping to a whisper, “But you came back. Don’t you want a home?”

He blinked slowly. Her words struck him dumb. The silence became awkward, and Riu pulled away sheepishly, shaking her head. “No, just, just forget I said anything. I’m sorry,” she apologized hastily and picked up her pace, leaving him behind.

It took him a moment before he remembered to follow her, though the revelation her words brought made him numb.

He _had_ come back, for no reason he could see, other than...

The thief stared at Riu’s back.

Her.

The village rose in the distance.

***

Riu was entranced by the festive village, which was still in full swing. The celebration had continued into the night, with lamps and torches lighting the streets. The smell of cooking beef filled the air, along with the scent of exotic perfumes and oils. There was music, dancing, and lots of talking. Bakura caught up with her, glancing around. He had tucked the mask beneath his coat, holding it between his calves and shuffling his feet. With the bandages on his ankle, it simply looked like he was favoring his injured foot.

“What exactly are they celebrating?” Bakura glanced around, leaning down slightly so Riu could hear him over the din of the crowd. She shook her head, eavesdropping on a conversation.

“I think the news is that the floods have finally come to Lower Egypt, so hopefully, they won’t be far behind here.”

“Hm.” Bakura sounded bored, “I’ll go put this back, since you _insist_ ,” he grunted, “Stay here.”

If he did get caught, he didn’t want Riu to suffer whatever fate befell him.

A look of worry flashed over her face, though, and she drew closer to him slightly. “There’s a lot of people here.”

“Leave, then! I won’t be long,” He shook his head, making a show of being exasperated with her. Still, he made sure to glare at the nearby crowd. Bakura didn’t blame Riu for being scared, after what happened the last time she came here. He subconsciously promised himself, if anyone laid a hand on her, there’d be hell to pay.

_Really, now, getting so protective of some stupid girl? If she gets attacked again, it’s her own damn fault._

Bakura found the house-turned-costume department again. The contents were in disarray, probably looking for the misplaced mask. As he glanced into the room, he could see two men arguing.

_She didn’t have to come._

“We’re running out of shows to stall them with! Everyone wants to see the Contentions of Horus and Set, and how can we do that if we don’t have a _Set_?!”

**_You_ ** _didn’t have to come._

“The mask was right here!”

_You didn’t have to **go back** in the first place, you idiot boy._

“Are you telling me it sprouted legs and wandered off on its own?”

_What’s gotten into you?_

“I can’t think of a better explanation!”

_Don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in…_

Both men blinked stupidly as they heard someone smack the brick wall with their fist, followed by something wooden clattering to the ground, as if it had been thrown.

Lo and behold, there was the mask in question, lying in the threshold of the doorway, its stylized eyes boring into them.

***

Bakura angrily scanned the crowd for Riu’s pale face, wanting nothing more than to just go home and sleep. Maybe that would shut up the part of his mind that had taken to mocking him and digging up emotions he’d rather not think about.

He spotted her, leaning against the wall and looking nervous. She was trying to smile, but there was fear in her eyes. What was she cowering away from?

Then he saw the boy talking to her and eyeing her like a piece of meat.

A strange form of hot-faced rage gripped him, and all thinking stopped. He slowly curled his hands into fists, starting towards them.

“Please? Just one dance, that’s all I want…” The boy set his hand on the wall beside Riu.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not going to be staying long,” Riu stammered, trying to back away from him, but he set his other hand on the wall, pinning her and smiling victoriously.   
  
“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to be alone.”

_THWACK._

The boy stumbled back, clutching his jaw and looking wildly at his attacker.

Bakura just growled lowly and clutched his fist, cracking his knuckles. “ _She’s not._ ”

Riu’s would-be suitor stumbled back, bristling and rubbing his new black eye. “She sure seemed like it when I found her!” He turned back to the farm girl, who looked rather dumbfounded at what was happening before her, “Why don’t you ditch this brute and let a real man take you dancing? Festivals like this don’t happen often. _I’m_ certainly not going to abandon you on such a special occasion.”

Bakura’s eyes became an angrier shade of red than usual, and he was about to lunge, when Riu stepped in front of him and held him back. “I’m f-flattered, but, I’m, uh,” She looked up at her fellow albino, then back at the other boy. Her eyes lit up with an idea, and she suddenly snuggled up to Bakura, draping one arm around his shoulders and running her other hand down his bare chest. “I’m with _him_ ,” she breathed lowly, in her huskiest voice.

The thief’s fury faltered. The sudden affection, show or not, robbed him of speech and made him gape like a fish. The other boy didn’t seem quite convinced, though, and Bakura looked ready to punch him again. Sauntering as well as she could, Riu lead him into the dancing crowd. It wasn’t until she pressed her cheek against the thief’s face, trying desperately to make it look like they were dancing, that the stranger got the hint and left.

Once he was out of sight, Riu pulled away from Bakura, smiling sheepishly. She still held his wrists, though, leading him around and moving her feet to the upbeat music. He let himself be lead numbly, staring down at her with a stupefied expression.

“Sorry,” she apologized meekly, a blush coloring her cheeks, “I didn’t know how else to get him to leave.”

Bakura slowly counted to ten in his head, trying to regain his wits. The music was starting to get to him, too. “You could have let me punch him again,” he finally managed.

“You’re still hurt, you don’t need to be getting into any fights.” Riu kept the pace slow, cautious of his bad foot.

He smirked faintly. Did she still think he was incapacitated?

“I could’ve taken that scrawny bastard.”

Without warning, he twirled her around.

“Ack! Bakura, slow down!” Riu yelped, clinging to him for dear life.

His smirk only grew. “Tell me I’m too injured to do something again, and I’ll sweep you off your feet.”

Riu blinked as he took the lead, suddenly looking embarrassed.

“Don’t believe me?” He asked daringly, dipping her back far enough that she had to clamp a hand to her head to keep her wig from falling.

“N-no! It’s not that…” She looked troubled, glancing at her shoulder as they dodged other dancers.

Bakura looked at her curiously, lifting her back onto her feet, pausing the dance for the moment as they stood to the side of the crowd. “What?”

“Nothing… It’s just…” She pulled up the linen that draped over her shoulders self-consciously, “I was so worried about the villager’s reaction to me, I never expected one to approach me because…”

“Because he was horny?” Bakura finished bluntly.

“Bakura!” Riu blushed furiously, jerking her hands away from him and folding her arms tightly. “He just wanted a dance.”

“Oh, if that’s all, why didn’t you grant him one?” Bakura arched an eyebrow, and Riu’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red.

“I… I’ve never danced with anyone before, or anything. It was the first time anyone asked me anything like that.”

“No one’s _ever_ tried to court you before?” The thief asked incredulously, and Riu shook her head.

“This is the first celebration I’ve been to. I hardly ever leave the house. Everyone around here shuns me, anyway... he was probably just drunk.” She sighed softly and turned around, starting towards the entrance of the village, “Sorry… let’s go home.”

Bakura blinked at her sudden shift in mood. “Hey, w… wait,” he sputtered, and she paused, looking back at him.

_What the hell is wrong with you? You were in a hurry to leave a minute ago._

“We… don’t have to leave just yet.” He slipped a hand beneath his shora, scratching his head and trying his best not to look nervous.

_That’s not what you really wanted to say._

Riu blinked at him, turning to look at him. She was still waiting for something. He started to get agitated, and tried to cover. “I’m starving, and these type of things usually have decent food. As long as we’re here, we might as well eat.”

_…did she actually look disappointed for a moment…?_

“I guess I am a little hungry,” she admitted, looking at the ground sadly.

_Didn’t you hurt her enough earlier?_

“But… but before that,” Bakura stumbled over his words, coughing. He felt like the biggest fool in all of Egypt, for what he wanted to say, and for the fact he was having so much trouble saying it… “I… uh…”

_At least that other boy had the guts to ask her, you coward._

Riu looked up at him with her dark eyes, the color of the fertile, life-giving soil the Nile left after ever flood.  He felt them lock with his own, and he took a deep breath, his frustrated, flustered expression softening. The beat of the drums and the chanting of the singers beckoned in the background, though the song had changed to a slower tune.

_It’s just one little question… it doesn’t mean anything._

He stepped closer to her and held out his hand, “Weren’t we… dancing?”

Riu stared at him in disbelief. Bakura could have sworn that she seemed to be having her own internal struggle, but she finally smiled shyly and gave him the faintest of nods. Her hand slipped into his, and he stepped back, gently leading her back into the dance.

They became silent, but there was no need for talking when there was music.

Still, Bakura wasn’t terribly sure of himself, fighting his demons in the back of his mind. Oddly, he noticed that Riu seemed to be doing the same. He didn’t know what she could be mulling over, but the thief became determined to get whatever was plaguing her off her mind, as apology for his earlier carelessness.

Maybe it was the cool night air, or the delicious scents on the breeze. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was the music, a slow, methodical beat and a low chant, drowning out his rational mind and leaving only his subconscious, only his unchecked, unregulated feelings. Whatever it was, what it made him do next surprised even himself.

Wordlessly, he pulled her close. She looked up at him, baffled, but he just took a deep breath and sat his chin on the crown of her head. He closed his eyes, resting his hands on her lower back. Riu was petrified for a moment, but she slowly relaxed against him, and he could feel her blush-warmed face settle against his neck.

They remained like that for what seemed like an eternity, stepping to the subdued music. That odd, drunken warmth had filled the thief’s head and heart again, silencing the nagging voices of his pride, his reason, even his cynicism. In this moment, he could forget everything. He could forget his hardships, his persecution, even the wickedness of the Pharaoh. He didn’t know how, but Riu’s presence in his arms numbed all the wounds and scars of the past, just as the medicines she gave him banished his pain. Bakura tightened his arms around her.

“I’m impressed,” she mumbled suddenly, breaking his trance.

He quickly loosened his embrace, glancing down at her and feeling as though he’d been caught doing something incriminating. “H-huh?”

“I never would have thought you could dance,” she murmured, her eyes opening slightly. She stared at him for a while, before her chest started to shake with silent laughter.

“What’s so funny?” He tried to sound demanding, but with his voice as shaky as it was, he sounded more rattled than anything else.

Riu smiled, reaching up to brush his cheek with her knuckles. “You’ve managed to make your face the exact same color as your coat.”

  
“I have - I am **not** blushing, woman!” Bakura growled desperately and tried to pull his head away from the soft touch of her fingers, but he didn’t have much luck. Riu just chuckled, withdrawing her hand and smiling up at him. She looked genuinely happy.

Her eyes lit up, noticing something. It was her turn to blush, and she dipped her head slightly, whispering, “I wasn’t sure if you could smile, either.”

He was confused for a moment, before he realized that he was indeed smiling. Not smirking, not sneering, but _smiling_ , and try as he might, he couldn’t stop. Bakura tried to think of something to say, some sort of excuse, but nothing came to mind.

And then something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. Several men, staring at him suspiciously. One of them looked a lot like one of the bread merchant’s sons.

“Shit,” he said eloquently, pulling away from her and immediately missing her warmth, “Riu, we have to get out of here.”

“Mmgh,” She protested weakly, apparently having been quite comfortable where she was. He shook her shoulders, snapping her out of her daze, and she looked around in confusion. “Why?”

“I think someone recognized me. Come on,” he urged her to start walking, all but pushing her. By the gods, they’d beaten him, whipped him, and threw him off a cliff, he didn’t want to think about what they’d do to Riu.

She stumbled as he ushered her back towards the path, but both of them were soon walking as quickly as they could while remaining inconspicuous. Bakura could slow dance with one good foot, but he couldn’t run. He just hoped the merchants didn’t know that.  The hair on the back of his neck rose.

They were being trailed.

Once the torches of the village street faded and the buildings became smaller and more scattered, Bakura looked around. Riu started towards the path, and he quickly grasped her wrist, shaking his head.

“They’ll be able to see us there. Follow me,” he brought her into the tall, dark grass, and she followed hesitantly. Going off the beaten path in an African midnight was dangerous, but they didn’t have any other choice.

“What about the snakes, the hyenas—?” He couldn’t see Riu’s face, since it was a dark, nearly moonless night, but the fear in her voice was unmistakable.

“You believe in the gods, right?” He interrupted, and he saw the motion of her head nodding in slow confusion.

“Then pray!”

With that, they stole into the night.

***

Bakura wished he had brought his walking stick. Not only was scrambling over the uneven terrain rough on his sore, tired ankle, but he would’ve far rather rattled the grass for snakes with a stick than his foot. As soon as they could, they made their way to the desert sands, made white in the faint moonlight, where it’d be far easier to spot potential danger.

Of course, that meant that they were plainly visible too. Even though they lost their human pursuers, the thief and the goatherd noticed a few pairs of gleaming eyes in the darkness. The distant, warbling laughter of hyenas and the yapping howls of jackals followed them like ghosts through the night, and the two teenagers found themselves huddling together more than once. Bakura tried to be brave for Riu’s sake, but even he had to reconsider his earlier plan. At least the merchant’s son and his friends wouldn’t tear off their faces and eat them alive.

But finally, after what seemed like the journey of a thousand miles, they saw Riu’s house in the distance. When they were finally inside, Bakura practically threw himself on the mat, exhausted by so much walking and stress. They both took the time to catch their breath and calm their frayed nerves, and Riu busied herself by mechanically mixing and pouring a jug of beer. Once it was finished, she handed it over to Bakura. “Here… your ankle’s probably aching after that excursion.”

He took it and drank eagerly, relaxing once he felt the potent herb-laced beer work through his system. Riu started to scoot away, and he looked down at the small pitcher.

“Wait.”

Riu paused, and he held the jug back out to her, “Have some. You look anxious.”

She held out her hand to protest, but he grunted and thrust the jug at her insistently. The farm girl hesitated, but she accepted it and took a few small sips, before giving it back to him. Bakura finished the beer, and Riu went to sit in the doorway.

“I don’t think I’m going to sleep outside tonight,” she muttered, hugging herself and leaning against the side of the entrance.

He chuckled and leaned back into a reclining position, folding his arms behind his head. It bothered the healing cuts on his back, but not enough for him to stop. “Oh, but you can hear the hyenas making their kills _so_ much better out there,” he snickered.

“Shush… you were scared of them, too,” she huffed, tucking her legs up. His only reply was a sly smirk, and he stared at the ceiling.

The dark room couldn’t keep his interest forever, though, however oddly the shadows seemed to shift and twist to his drugged mind. His eyes fell on Riu, who was still huddling in the doorway. She looked like she was shivering. It was a crisp night, as chilled as Egypt ever got, at least, and her linens probably weren’t as thick as his cloak.

Maybe she was still scared, too.

He thought for a long while, before coming to a conclusion that was probably heavily influenced by the beer.

“Riu.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“It’s a cold night.”

She turned around, tilting her head in confusion.

“…come lie beside me.”

Riu’s eyes widened, and even in the dark, he thought he could see a blush on her face. He lifted his hand, beckoning her, the hashish granting him patience for the time being.

She was still at first, almost deathly so. Slowly, she started moving towards his side. Bakura waited, watching her and wishing it wasn’t so dark. He wanted to see her face perfectly.

Riu finally bridged the gap between them, but she remained upright, leaning on her palms and looking down at him. “Bakura, I think you’re just drunk.”

“And I think you’re beautiful,” he slurred quietly, too inebriated to catch himself, “So what’sh your point?”

Riu stammered for a moment, trailing into silence. It wasn’t long before he felt her sink down beside him, tentatively resting her head on his chest. Bakura shifted his weight and wrapped his arms around her, one hand sifting through her hair, the other clasping her waist. In turn, one of her arms slid beneath his shoulders, while the other rested on his collarbone, close to her face. The night seemed far from chilled now, and he nuzzled her hair, drinking in her scent.

What little was left of the thief’s sober mind was glad that the circumstances weren’t different. Otherwise, there’d be little stopping his hormones from taking over. But as it was, they were both exhausted.

They quickly fell asleep, and together, dreamt. 


	11. Uncovered

Bakura silently cursed the mid-day sun as it clawed at his eyelids. He tried to roll over to avoid it, but he froze when he heard someone mumble incoherently against his throat, a warm, shifting body against his chest, in his arms. His eyes snapped open. He didn’t have to look down to know that it wasn’t a goat this time.

He wanted to be mad. He wanted to be angry, but he was just flustered and agitated, more embarrassed than anything.  Dammit… how had such a small amount of beer made him drunk enough to do _that_? He wasn’t even entirely sure what had happened, his memories jumbled with dreams and fantasy. He tried to writhe away, grumbling and hissing, but he felt her thin arms tighten around him.

 Bakura looked down at Riu, even if all he could see of her was a mane of white locks. His expression softened, and he felt his irritation quickly slipping away, drowned out by the comfort of her weight against him and the sound of her soft breathing.

How had she done it? How was a simple, ordinary farm-girl able to slip past all of his mental and emotional defenses? It wasn’t just her dark eyes and soft face. He had always been able to ignore pretty girls before. He could ignore people in general. But she had been the first to treat him as a person, and not a thieving demon.

And she was so _warm_ …

But after the slaughter at Kul Elna, he wasn’t sure if he was still a person. Something dark was lurking in his subconscious, something that threatened to seize control whenever his anger rose, whenever his blood ran cold. Death and hate seemed to follow him. He was just a thief, but sometimes, when people met his crimson eyes, they became afraid… and he _liked it_. The fear in their eyes was a better prize than all their gold and jewels.

Riu had been able to combat this darkness without ever knowing it existed. Somehow, as little as a word from her mouth or a brush of her fingers was like a light in the dark. She was a shining star in the night that chased away the shadows.

She made him feel human again.

He closed his eyes and hardened his heart.

Bakura needed his darkness. It was the only way he knew how to cope. Riu made him feel again, feel things he never felt before. Though he would never admit it, he was scared. It was like she was dragging him into some sort of bottomless abyss, an abyss of warmth, comfort, and soft touches, and he teetered on the edge.

But without his darkness, he couldn’t get his revenge.

And even she might not be able to stop his darkness, some day.

To leave and avenge his family, or to stay and fall into the abyss of Riu’s embrace, to let her take him past the point of no return?

Bakura gently lifted her hands away from his chest and pushed her to the side without waking her. The thief sighed as he stood, looking between her and the door. She let out a discontent sound, curling up on the mat and reaching for where his face should have been. It felt like someone was pulling on his heart, weighing it down. He shook his head, looking away.

Maybe the fresh air would help him make his difficult choice.

***

He walked for a long time. He sank onto the sun-warmed shore of the Nile, retreating into the shade of a palm tree. Bakura wrapped his cloak around himself, folding his arms on his knees and searching for answers in the running waters.

He lost track of time as he weighed the possibilities. It shouldn’t have been such a difficult choice. He had a duty to his family, not to some simple girl he met by chance… by fate… the thief felt torn. He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head.

_She’s much more than a simple girl to you, Bakura._

He blinked his eyes open. That wasn’t the voice that was usually in his head. It sounded female, almost like… his mother? A chill ran down his spine as he felt ethereal fingers brush through his hair, and he whirled around, but he was alone.

_Don’t be afraid… it’s only us._

Bakura’s eyes darted around, and he thought he saw a flash of white in the corner of his eye. He felt something warm against his cheek, though nothing was there.

_You don’t have to choose, Bakura. We’re always with you, even if you can’t see us._

“W-who are you?” He asked, and immediately felt foolish for addressing the empty air. The thief had the disturbing sensation of being surrounded. Though not by strangers…

_I think you know._

Bakura’s heart skipped a beat. Ghosts?

_We’re long dead and gone, my son. We want you to be happy._

“But—”

_She needs you more than we do._

“What are you talking about?” He looked around, but he felt someone directing his gaze back in the direction of Riu’s house, which was only a speck in the distance. Two figures stood outside. He got to his feet, waiting for his ghostly advisors to say or do something else. But they were gone, leaving silence in their wake.

Bewildered, he started walking back, already doubting his experience.

***

 

By the time he reached the house, the other figure had left. He had guessed it was the man Riu had talked to earlier, a friend of her father. She wasn’t surprised to see him. She had already made breakfast, and his aching stomach immediately brought itself to his attention. He sat down on the floor of her mud brick house and started eating, and she sat down several feet away.

Bakura watched her, blinking curiously. Riu’s movements seemed stiff, and she stared ahead blankly. If he hadn’t been so distracted by the food, he would have noticed that she looked as though her spirit had been completely broken sooner. Faint concern welled up in his chest, and he put the half-eaten bread down. “Riu?”

No response. Her glazed eyes were staring at the wall intently. He inched towards her, furrowing his brow, moving to her side. He hesitated, before asking, “Why so devastated, girl?”

She didn’t say anything, but she did lower her head, tucking up her knees.

“Riu…” He touched her shoulder, shaking it slightly.

The goatherd’s head turned towards him slowly, and he was almost taken aback by the agonizing sadness in her brown eyes.

“Is something wrong with the food?” she whispered distantly, and the way she was staring _through_ him disturbed him as much as the voices he heard earlier.

“What? I don’t give a damn about the food.”

“I can make more,” she said, almost voicelessly, her posture sagging. He growled and grabbed hold of her shoulders, shaking them roughly.

“I don’t care about the food, stupid girl! I care about you!” Bakura leveled his gaze with hers, trying to snap her out of her strange mood, gripping her shoulders tightly.

Riu blinked up at him, looking into his eyes. He could see her fighting herself again, struggling against something. What? What could she possibly be haunted by? Maybe if he stared at her long enough, he’d find the answer.

But her expression twisted into a look of abject guilt, tears gleaming in her eyes. “I-It’s nothing, B-baku… Bakura,” She stammered, nearly choking as she struggled with his name. Her voice broke strangely, becoming a lower, more natural, and not entirely feminine pitch for a fleeting moment. She slapped her hands over her mouth and tried to scoot away from him desperately, looking panicked. His confusion and frustration finally reached a boiling point. He grabbed her wrists, his eyes blazing.

“By the gods, what is _wrong_ with you, woman?!” He all but spat, railing at her, and she winced away, “Whenever I try to be nice, you get this look of guilt on your face! Damn it, it’s not easy for me to be anything besides angry and violent, and whenever I manage, you cringe and act like you’re committing heresy!”

He paused to catch his breath, seething and glaring at her, “You said… said I was your friend.”

Riu stared at him silently, before she broke away, scrambling to her feet and burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders started trembling as she sobbed into her palms, walking towards a corner and leaning against the wall. Bakura immediately felt bad, sighing and smacking himself in the face for his outburst. He stood, starting towards her and holding out his hands. “I didn’t… dammit… Riu, stop crying…”

But she was mumbling to herself, and didn’t hear him. Bakura glanced around, wondering desperately what to say. He hadn’t exactly comforted anyone before. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“…my father… the Pharaoh’s tomb…” Riu muttered, and Bakura jumped as she suddenly pounded her fist against the wall, “Haven’t you hurt us enough?! Why’d you have to take him?! You’re _dead!_ ” She almost shrieked… no, shouted, her voice taking on the deeper edge as it had before, though it soon dropped to hardly a whisper. “…and now, so is he.”

Bakura stared at her, drawing close to her back, nearly touching her.

Riu rubbed her eyes, continuing, “He… Madu, his friend… he came to tell me… there was an accident.”  She shuddered as another sob wrenched free from her throat, and she clutched her head, “He was my only family, Kura, and now he’ll be thrown in a mass grave with the rest of the workers who died. I don’t… I don’t have anyone else… I’m so tired of being alone…!”

Bakura was silent, reaching forward to brush her hair back. Without a second thought, he took her shoulder - gently, this time - and turned her around. She only had time to blink in confusion before he wrapped his arms around her and brought her to his chest. Riu was still, before she tucked up her arms and leaned against him, sobbing into his shoulder. 

This time, he had no music, no beer, no hashish to blame his actions on…

He rocked her, cradling her head and sighing into her hair. Her whimpering gradually became quiet, and her face moved away from the damp patch on his cloak, resting her cheek against his jaw. Bakura lowered his head, finding her ear amongst her hair.

“You’re not alone, Riu,” he whispered in the softest tone he could. For once, his voice was bereft of anger or frustration, cynicism or haughtiness. The silence stretched, and they remained standing, embracing, until Riu started shaking. Bakura drew his head back, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed tightly, and tears rolled down her cheek. She was trying to say something, but she was too breathless and choked. The only thing the thief could hear was incoherent, apologetic murmurs.

“Ssh… stop that. There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he instructed quietly, “I… know what it’s like to lose your family. I’m certainly not going to snap at you for crying.”

Riu shook her head faintly, clutching his cloak, “N-no… Bakura, I’m… there’s something I-I have to tell you… I’m sorry… gods…” She inhaled deeply, shakily, and lifted her head, shame marring her features. He frowned and became silent, indicating that he was listening. “I…”

“Peasant!” A voice outside interrupted her, and they both looked at the door in confusion.

“What...? Bakura, you should stay here, I’ll handle this,” Riu asked in a pleading tone, and reluctantly pulled away. She left the thief alone in the room as she walked outside, quickly wiping the tears from her face.

Bakura was highly tempted to follow her, but he settled for walking to the edge of the doorway and stealing a glance outside. A man in expensive robes was grinning strangely at Riu, and if his stumbling walk was any indication, he was rather drunk. He held a bundle of papyrus scrolls in a bag on his belt. This must be the scribe she told him about.

“Ah… my poor, sweet child, I heard the news,” the scribe said in a pompous, falsely sweet tone, reaching out to take Riu’s hand in his claw-like fingers, “I’ve seen many a good man fall beneath… what was it, a block broke loose from its ropes? Terrible sight, not a pleasant way to go at all.”

Riu paled slightly and tried to back away from him, looking rather uncomfortable as he advanced, “I’m… your sympathy flatters me, sir… but is that a-all that brings me y-your company?”

“Mmm, very perrr-sheptive,” the scribe grinned, his words faintly slurred, pulling Riu’s hand close. Bakura bristled, and the landlord continued, “I come with an offer. With your father gone, you needn’t be living out here by yourself, eh? Surely, you can’t tend these crops by yourself, when it comes time for harvest.”

“I… I can handle it, sir.”

“Nonsense,” the scribe hissed, and Bakura likened him to a serpent as he smiled wickedly at Riu, “You’ve got no parents, no husband, no family. What need have you of your own house?”

Bakura gripped the walls tightly. The scribe was eyeing Riu the same way that boy at the village had, licking his lips and probably breathing his disgusting, drunken breath at her. “You shall come be a servant at my home - you can cook, can’t you, girl? It doesn’t matter, I’ve got a very specific task in mind for you…” He murmured, silently appraising her flesh. Apparently, he had a far different opinion about her exotic looks than his wife.

“But, I - this is my home,” she protested weakly, and the scribe growled, quickly losing his patience.

“It was not a suggestion, servant!” He jerked Riu, pinning her against a tree and looming over her. The scribe lunged forward, aiming for Riu’s lips…

In less than a second, Bakura had managed to transverse the distance, and put a death-grip on the older man’s wrist, prying it off of the goatherd and jerking him to the side roughly.

“And I _suggest_ you leave her alone, you pompous bastard,” Bakura snarled furiously, standing in front of a huddling Riu protectively. The scribe stumbled back, tearing his wrist away and rubbing the sore joint.

“Who is this?! How dare you speak to Ngozi in such a manner?!” The scribe demanded, but he seemed defensive, now. Possibly because Bakura was taller than him.

“You just worry about what I’m going to do to you if you ever lay a finger on her again,” the thief warned in a dangerous tone, stepping forward and drawing himself up. His red eyes practically burned, and even Ngozi seemed unsettled.

“Do you _know_ who I am, insolent boy?!” Ngozi narrowed his eyes, before he paused, as though recognizing something, “I believe I may know who _you_ are, though…”

That caught Bakura off guard, and he looked at the drunk scribe confusedly. The older man just laughed, backtracking, starting towards the path. “Enjoy that girl while you have her, vagrant. You won’t be around much longer!”

The faintest hints of dread stirred in the thief’s stomach, but ignored them. “Drunken fool,” he grumbled, then looked around. “Are you alright - Riu?”

She had disappeared.

***

 

He looked through the house and around its four walls, in the fields where the goats grazed on dying grass, along the nearby shores, in the herb garden - but he couldn’t find her in any of her usual spots. Curiosity became frustration, and frustration became worry as he wandered through the fields, calling her name in tones that varied from irritated to genuinely anxious.

Bakura had wandered a ways from the house when he saw a figure kneeling over the Nile, hidden in the shade of a palm, swathed by reeds. The shadows were too thick for him to see anything aside from a flash of white hair, but she seemed to be splashing her face. He certainly didn’t blame her for wanting to wash off after the encounter with that scribe. The thief started to call her name, but he cut himself off abruptly when he realized what she was doing.

Riu was disrobing.

 Bakura stood in the grass, staring dumbly. Though he was still, his mind was spinning. Should he shout her name, go to her, see how she’s doing, and embarrass her? Did she want to be left alone? Dammit, what was he supposed to do?

Unsure, he took a few steps forward, but when Riu paused and glanced around, he quickly ducked into the grass. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he crawled towards the girl tentatively, telling himself he was _not_ trying to get a better view, he was just… well, he hadn’t thought of that part yet.

Riu seemed convinced that she had her privacy, and she finished pulling off the linen shawl that draped over her shoulders, folding it carefully and setting on a rock. She looked distressed. Taking a dip in the river had always calmed his nerves, so he imagined that she had also discovered its therapeutic qualities. The goatherd shook her hair out once her shawl was gone, and slipped off the belt that held the outer layer of her skirt. This left her in only her sleeveless white dress, which was far from form-fitting.

The way it hung over her slender form, though, it was obvious that she was rather thin, slightly bony, though this seemed to be more from the rigors of a growing body than emaciation. He had never seen a girl quite so lanky, and it struck him as a little odd. But all his pondering thoughts abruptly halted as she started to unwrap her dress, revealing her slim shoulders.

Bakura held his breath, his mouth suddenly dry. Riu’s shoulders were smooth, a slightly lighter shade than her arms and face. As the dress came down, he could see her contours of her throat dip gracefully into her collarbone, and her breasts…

…weren’t there.

Bakura blinked.

There was only a flat, boyish chest.

Riu’s gangly frame and bony hips looked out of place on a woman, but it made perfect sense for a young male.

Riu wasn’t a farm _girl_ at all.

Bakura must have made a strangled sound of astonishment, since Riu turned sharply and looked in his direction, her… _his_ eyes filling with horror.

“Bakura!” The goatherd sputtered, gathering the dress and quickly pulling it up, trying to conceal himself. It was too late. Bakura was sprawled out and staring at Riu in abject shock.

“P-please, I can…” Riu’s voice was frantic and pleading, until a defeated look crossed his face and he let his voice drop to its natural tone, “I can explain. I-I was going to tell you earlier when Ngozi - ”

As Bakura’s shock faded, something else started to course through his veins and tear through his chest, as though he had been stabbed. It was betrayal, and moreover, _hurt_.  This manifested externally as something far different, though, and he curled his fingers slowly, digging them into the dirt. He started to shake, but he was neither afraid nor cold.

He had been tricked. He had been manipulated, lead along, lulled into a false sense of security. The emotionally detached part of his mind might have applauded Riu’s masterful deception, had it not been overwhelmed.

The thief had been an idiot fool, and he’d allowed his heart to be stolen by a better thief and liar.

His pride was mortally wounded, and his heart was in pieces.

Now he was _enraged_.

Slowly, methodically, he rose to his feet and directed the full force of his deathly glare at Riu. His every breath was a snarling, seething hiss. Riu backed up against the trunk of the palm tree, scrunching back into his shoulders as though trying to disappear. He was saying something, but Bakura didn’t hear it, striding forward silently. His darkness was rising, and so was his arm.

_Don’t…_

Bakura almost paused, but the voice was quiet and easy to ignore.

_Don’t hurt him!_

He stared down at Riu. Those large, brown, tear-filled eyes still managed to captivate him, still managed to make the smaller boy look so much like a girl despite his lack of any feminine anatomy.

Still made him beautiful…

Bakura wrenched his hand out of the air and turned away. He was too numb, too angry, too hurt, too _everything_ to have room to feel physical pain, or to hear Riu calling out after him.

He ran into the desert.


	12. Snow on the Sahara

Bakura didn’t know where he was going - he was following a relatively straight line to nowhere in particular - just that he had to get away.

He ran away from it all. Away from Riu, from the goatherd’s mud brick house they’d slept in, from the river that they drank from, from the golden fields where they stared at the stars and discussed the universe.

But his memories of those places were not so easy to put behind him. No matter how hard he ran, how hard his heart pumped in his ears, how many rocks he stumbled over, how many sand dunes he scrambled over, he could not get away.

He was able to forget his body, though, and soon his broken ankle gave out on him. He fell to the hot desert floor, losing his breath and getting a throat full of sand.

The thief laid there, cough and gasping, his bangs sticking to his face. Desperately, he tried to stand, but his arms only shook and collapsed beneath him. He was starting to run out of adrenaline, and as it ebbed away, it left exhaustion, pain, and numbness in its wake. Every breath seemed like far too much effort to his aching lungs, and he stopped trying to move, setting his head on the ground.

The horizon shimmered in the distance, the air distorted by the searing heat. To his disoriented vision, there were palms around a cool lake, but he knew it was a mirage.

An illusion.

He closed his eyes.

***

_Only tell me that you still want me here_

_When you wander off out there_

_To those hills of dust and hot winds that blow_

_In that dry wide ocean, all alone_

 

In his dreams, night had fallen. The moon rose over the sands and sent a cool breeze over his battered body and through his broken mind. Howls rang through the night as the nocturnal predators crept out to feast. It was enough to make him shiver.

He heard footsteps. The shifting, nearly silent sound of bare feet walking across sand. Bakura willed his eyes open, though every inch of him wanted nothing more than to sleep for all eternity.

He saw feet.

His gaze wandered upwards, past the white linen dress, and he saw Riu’s face. Soft white bangs fell across the smaller boy’s sad eyes, the wind tossing them to the side.

He kneeled before Bakura. The thief tried to move, to do something. All he could do was lift a trembling hand, reaching feebly.

Riu took his hand, slimmer, paler, fingers intertwining with Bakura’s thicker, more callused appendages.

Despite his sorrowful eyes, Riu was smiling.

Sand blew past them, and Bakura shook involuntarily. He felt Riu slowly turn him onto his back.

He could see the stars clearly.

Riu’s arms wrapped around him, their movements unsure and hesitant. Nevertheless, Bakura found himself being drawn towards the warmth of the other boy, and his head came to rest on Riu’s lap. The arms left quickly.

He felt gentle fingers pry his mouth open, and cool water was poured down his throat. He swallowed, closing his eyes and setting the crown of his head against Riu’s stomach.

_To stand with you in a ring of fire_

_I'll forget the days gone by_

_I'll protect your body and guard your soul_

_From mirages in your sight_

 

Being moved reminded Bakura of the burning agony that wracked his foot, and he started to arch his back. A warm pair of arms went around his neck, cradling his head. Breath washed over his hair, and cleansed him of his pain.

He leaned his head back against Riu, his hand reaching up wearily and running down one of the arms around his throat. It fell on the wrist and clasped it tenderly.

He felt Riu’s arms shift, tightening their embrace. A slender hand cupped his cheek.

It trailed upwards, pushing Bakura’s bangs back and drifting over the corner of his closed eyelids.

The thief opened his eyes again. Riu’s inverted face was directly in his line of sight.

As the midnight winds blew across the desert, it obliterated their footprints. They could have been sitting like that since time began and the sands would give no clue to the contrary.

The moon was directly overhead, like a halo over Riu, and shone through his hair as though the strands were made of crystal. The stars lit his eyes.

Riu lifted his head and turned his face to the night sky.

_Just a wish and I will cover your shoulders_

_With veils of silk and gold_

_When the shadows come and darken your heart_

_Leaving you with regrets so cold_

Clouds wreathed the moon.

For once, Bakura’s mind had no scathing commentary, no sharp retort, no cold-hearted reasoning. He had no bitter memories, no smoldering anger. He became silent and peaceful as soon as he was in Riu’s arms.

In fact, so had the entire desert.

He didn’t struggle as Riu took him closer, and his head was brought to the other boy’s collarbone.

Bakura stared up at Riu’s throat.

He wondered what the goatherd was discussing with the moon.

_If your hopes scatter like the dust across your track_

_I’ll be the moon that shines on your path_

_The sun may blind our eyes, I’ll pray the skies above_

_For snow to fall on the Sahara_

The clouds darkened.

Riu’s head came back down, and his arms slid into another embrace, this time around Bakura’s shoulders. Riu’s fingers wandered over the material of the thief’s cloak as he nuzzled Bakura’s hair, murmuring wordless apologies.

The thief felt tears trickle onto his scalp.

The tears sank into his soul, into his heart, and washed away the darkness. With it went his hurt, his fear, his anger, leaving him with only two emotions.

Guilt… and love.

He would not give Riu another reason to cry.

He looked upwards, and his other hand came to rest on a silky, dampened cheek. He wordlessly brushed a tear away from the pale face above him, slipping his hand into Riu’s hair.

Gently, he coaxed the other boy’s face downwards, and Riu closed his eyes.

Bakura decided that Riu’s lips felt - and tasted - like moonlight.

Before the thief’s eyelids lowered, before he let himself be lost in the world of light and warmth that the kiss brought him to, he thought he saw something white fluttering down from the sky.

_If that’s the only place where you can leave your doubts_

_I’ll hold you up, and be a way out_

_And if we burn away, I’ll pray the skies above_

_For snow to fall on the Sahara._

He didn’t know what it was.

He had no word for snow.

***

 

It was the wind that woke him.

He blinked blearily, glancing up at the sky and squinting. The moon was much thinner, and the night much darker than it had been in his dream. Bakura let out a quiet groan as waking made him aware of his miserable physical state. But he focused on the pain. It was simple. It made sense. His muddled thoughts and emotions did not.

It had just been a dream, but he could practically feel Riu’s arms around him. He shuddered and ran his hand hand through his hair. He should have been disgusted, but he only felt light-headed, his heart beating irregularly. He blamed it on exhaustion.

The flames of his anger had been extinguished, he knew that much. Without them to hide in, he felt cold, and he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders, almost hugging himself. The thief imagined he would have been much warmer had he been hugging Riu instead.

_Stop that!_ He snapped at himself. _You stupid boy, it was all a lie…_

…wasn’t it?

The dance… the sleep that followed… The night they feasted on goose, the day Riu silenced his terrible fury with just a touch, all the nights they sat beneath the stars…

Was it all a lie?

Lies had reasons, motivations. Riu had nothing to gain from Bakura. All the thief had to his name were his clothes and his stolen items, and if the farm hand had wanted those, he had countless opportunities to take them while Bakura was bedridden.

Riu’s lie extended far beyond Bakura, too. Not even the goatherd’s landlord knew. Bakura knew it was egotistical to take it so personally, but he was not known for his modesty. But try as he might, he simply could not imagine Riu as the type to carry on such a masquerade with malicious intent.

He sighed into the night air, before his breath adopted a slight growl. It was the principle of the thing, he tried to convince himself. But he was not exactly a man of principle, and his anger sprung more from feeling foolish than anything else. He should never have had such emotions for another boy, a lying, treacherous boy… should not dream about him… should not still _have_ such feelings…

But he did. And when he closed his eyes, he could still taste Riu’s lips.

…dammit, there was that dizzy feeling again. That dizzy, warm, all-encompassing sensation that swept away everything else…

Bakura shook his head sharply, reminding himself it was just a dream, just a stupid, useless, meaningless dream.

But then a realization struck him.

He was on his back.

The thief’s eyes widened slightly, and he took a deep breath. As he inhaled, he could have sworn he smelled bread.

Not just any bread, Riu’s unmistakable honey-sweetened recipe. Questioning his sanity, he turned his head to the side.

Beside him there was a small pouch that had not been there before. The tip of a loaf was visible within the draw-string opening, and a desert mouse was sniffing at it curiously. He hurriedly waved the rodent away, but his widened, unblinking eyes were locked on the bag. He tried to sit up, and his groping hand fell on something wooden on his other side.

It was his walking stick.

And the bandages on his ankle felt tight, as though they had recently been replaced.

Stupefied, he leaned back onto the sand, staring up at the sky blankly. His heart was in his throat.

…it _had_ been a dream, right…?

But it was impossible to deny that Riu had found him and gave him everything he needed to set out on his journey again, despite the way Bakura had looked at him with disgust and hate. He sighed. That was just like the goatherd, forgiving to a fault, especially when any normal person would’ve been angry and bitter.

But Riu was not a normal person.

And male or female, something deep in Bakura’s soul told him that while the goatherd’s gender may have been a fallacy, his personality and mannerisms were genuine. Male or female, Riu had taken him in for no reason, tended his wounds, and shared his home, food, and company, when the gods themselves had cursed the thief. Male or female, Riu had never turned his back on Bakura, even when he insulted the shy goatherd, even when he shouted at him, complained to him, snapped at him, threatened him, even _struck_ him.

Male or female, Riu was still _Riu_.

Bakura stared at the sky a long time. Coming to a conclusion, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, balancing on the walking stick.

He was going home.


	13. Gift of the Nile

The floor wasn’t comfortable, but Riu couldn’t bring himself to sleep on the mat. He stared at it from his curled position across the room. A knot came to his throat, and he forced himself to turn over, shaking his head.

Had he been pretending to be a girl so long that he had fallen in love with a boy?

He didn’t understand how he had become so enamored with the gruff thief. Bakura was far from lovable. His rude, rough behavior was everything Riu wasn’t. But somewhere, far beneath the surly exterior, Riu could have sworn that Bakura bore more scars on his soul than on his body.

And the goatherd had probably given him another one.

Riu sighed guiltily and wrapped his arms around himself, but that only served to remind him of the way the other boy held him. He whimpered, before becoming irritated with himself. _You’re_ ** _not_** _a woman, Riu… crying like one isn’t going to bring him back._

But he couldn’t help it, burying his face in his folded arms.  Riu wouldn’t lie to himself. He had been drawn to Bakura since he first saw the older boy lying in a mangled heap at the base of a hill. It hadn’t been the red coat that had drawn his attention, but the stranger’s crop of white hair. He didn’t know what to expect, nearly exhausting himself dragging Bakura home and treating his wounds, sitting by his side all night to see if his efforts had been in vain.

As soon as Bakura had opened his eyes, Riu’s heart had skipped a beat. He had _never_ seen eyes that were anything but dark and brown, much less that color, almost a brighter red than the cloak the thief wore. Eyes such a color probably struck fear into the hearts of most Egyptians, who associated red with Set, the lord of evil, of blood and violence, and Bakura’s personality certainly encouraged such a reputation. But Riu saw something else.

To him, red was passion. Love.

Granted, Riu knew nothing of either of those until he met Bakura, and even then, only in his dreams. The goatherd blushed furiously, rubbing his eyes. He knew it was wrong, but ever since the night Bakura had ventured out of the house and discovered Riu’s first secret, ever since the thief ran his fingers through the goatherd’s hair… Riu shook his head again. None of it mattered now. Bakura was gone, and he had only himself to blame. He lost the last two people who cared about him, who would _ever_ care about him, that day.

At least he still had his memories.

A sound broke Riu’s mournful reverie, and the thin boy blinked, glancing outside. A comfortable background noise had slowly escalated in volume, coming to the forefront of his attention.

The river was roaring.

***

 

Something wet fell on Bakura’s head.

He blinked in surprise, staring up at the sky. It was nearly dawn, and thick, grey clouds blanketed the sky. It was a rare sight. Bakura could only gape at the gathering storm, and another raindrop hit his forehead.

The thief had never seen clouds like that. In the distance, he heard surging water.

Dread tugged at the back of his mind, and he picked up his pace.

***

 

The roar heralded the flood.

The angry Nile soon spilled over its banks without further warning. Riu tried desperately to guide the goats to higher ground, but they were scattered and panicked, and he was already weary from following Bakura out into the desert. He leaned against the wall of the mud brick house as he fought to catch his breath, wind and rain whipping through his hair and dress. The goatherd shivered as he was buffeted. The muddy water already rushing over his ankles, trying to tug him under.

Reluctantly, he listened to his instincts of self-preservation and stumbled into the house, where upturned pottery was bobbing up and down on the invading waters. Riu jumped in surprise as a particularly strong current smashed a pot into the wall, and he prayed under his ragged breath as he followed the wall to the stairs. He finally made it, pulling himself onto the rain-slicked roof, panting and trembling. A few of the goats had already found their way up here, the wet animals huddling together for warmth. He smiled weakly. At least some of them might make it.

And then the flat roof was suddenly at an angle.

The sudden drop in height caused one of the goats to skid, tumbling over the roof with a terrified bleat. Riu made a wild reach for it, but he wasn’t fast enough. Moving to the edge of the roof only allowed him to see what had happened.

As the waters rose and crashed relentlessly against the walls, they were saturating the bricks, making them soggy and turning them back into mud.

Riu yelped and quickly scrambled back to the elevated side of the roof, but it wasn’t long before another wall gave in, and the small house started to collapse. Riu climbed to the very top of the alcove in his frantic search for higher ground, but the buckling structure made him lose his footing, and he was thrown into the churning waters.

The boy sputtered as the undercurrent tried to drag him to his death. He tried to stand, but the waters were already to his waist. He dug his fingers into the melting walls of his house to anchor himself, but the floodwaters tore at him until his hands slipped out of the mud, and he became part of the current.

Water rushed into his nose and mouth. He flailed his arms as the river pulled him away from his house, and soon the sagging structure was a speck in the distance. Riu coughed, crying out as rocks and other debris collided with him, his exhausted body tossed mercilessly in the current and smacked against trees.

Drained and battered, he resigned himself to fate and let himself be pulled under.

Then something grabbed him around the waist.

Riu felt himself being hauled out of the water by a strong arm, and he blinked up at his savior blearily. A pair of red eyes looked down at him, though they were difficult to see past the wet white bangs.

The goatherd drifted into unconsciousness with a faint smile on his face.

***

 

Fear leapt into Bakura’s heart as Riu’s head lolled back limply, but he didn’t have time to worry about it now. Clutching the boy with one arm, the thief climbed the thin tree as well as he could, calling upon reserves of strength that were only available in times of great crisis.

He finally made it into the bough of a high branch, laying Riu back and watching him anxiously for signs of life.

He wasn’t breathing, and at the moment, neither was Bakura.

Bakura’s frantic mind recalled a house he’d been able to rob since the family was distracted by a child that fell into the river. Distantly, he remembered them breathing into the toddler’s mouth and pumping his chest once they’d managed to pull him out. His hands searched for the right spot on Riu’s chest, though he had no idea where it was, and he hesitated a moment before leaning down.

His mind was too numb and stressed to consider the sensation of Riu’s lips against his as he tried to breathe life back into him, pressing on the goatherd’s chest hard enough to leave a bruise. Nothing happened. The thief made a frustrated sound and took a deep breath, and tried inhaling into Riu’s mouth again. Still nothing.

Desperate, Bakura pounded his fist against Riu’s chest, exhaling to the full extent of his lungs. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes.

Finally, the smaller boy started coughing.

Bakura blinked and drew his head back, propping Riu up. Once the goatherd had exhausted himself coughing up water, he started shivering. Bakura quickly took off his cloak and wrapped it and his arms around Riu, bringing him against his chest. Even if Riu wasn’t any drier, at least he was warm, and soon he was asleep.

They sat in the tree, and Bakura waited.

***

 

Though the storm and flash flood were over soon, the water remained. Bakura watched it become still, and as the day went on, start to recede. The thief napped periodically, and though his heroism had managed to nearly reopen some of the wounds on his back, it was hard for him to say he was uncomfortable. Not with Riu sleeping against him so peacefully. 

As the water sank back into the Nile, Bakura winced at the destruction left in its wake. Riu’s house was a misshapen mound, the small garden was covered in mud, and there were several bloated goat carcasses strewn about, twisted in the upturned soil. Bakura grimaced and turned Riu’s head away from the sight.

The motion stirred the goatherd from his sleep, and he let out a soft groan against Bakura’s collarbone. He blinked his eyes open, and he stared up at the older boy blankly for a moment, before he smiled tiredly.

“You came back,” he whispered, tears gleaming in his eyes.

“Yes, I seem to be making a habit of that,” Bakura grunted. Though he tried to sound dispassionate, there was a slight smile on his own lips.

“Mmmgh…” Riu made a soft whimpering sound and slowly wrapped his arms around Bakura’s neck, “I’m sorry, Bakura… I didn’t mean to lie to you,” He murmured, sounding like a sleepy child.

“Why?”   
  
Riu didn’t seem to comprehend, and Bakura shook his head, “Why dress as a woman?”

“Oh,” Riu looked down, closing his eyes, “I was always small… weak… used to get sick a lot… I just stayed inside most of the time, never went out to play like a normal boy.”

The goatherd shifted his weight, staring at the horizon, “I ended up helping my mother with the chores when I was very young, but after she died and we moved here, father got the idea to pass me off as a girl so I would never have to go do the grueling work of the builders. I guess he figured I would be safer.”

“And you don’t feel any kind of… shame?” Bakura asked stupidly, but Riu just shrugged.

“I was never exactly masculine, so I guess I just adapted. Besides you, he was the only one that ever knew.” He frowned, “I only felt bad about it when I met you, and…”

  
“And…?”

“…and we… became… closer,” Riu mumbled, a blush coloring his cheeks.

“Mmmh,” was Bakura’s only reply. They fell into silence, Riu setting the tip of his nose against Bakura’s neck, almost as if he wanted to nuzzle it, but didn’t dare. The thief glanced down at him out of the corner of his eye.

The effeminate boy’s eyes were closed as he breathed steadily against Bakura’s throat, a warm smile on his delicate features.

Bakura’s heart became heavy, and he lowered his voice. “Don’t smile too much.”

“Why not…?”

“You lost everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bakura shrugged his shoulder in the direction of Riu’s collapsed house, and the other boy turned his head. He felt Riu go tense in his arms, and he tightened his grip on him slightly.

“Poor goats… I hope some of them made it to safety,” Riu said quietly, and Bakura stared down at him in disbelief.

“Goats? Your house is a pile of muck, and you’re worried about the _goats_? What about _you_ , you foolish g…” He caught himself, “…boy?”

Riu looked up at him with a knowing smile. “It’s just a house.”

“All your pottery, tools, linens, food -”

Riu motioned to the dead and dying fish flopping around in the mud, “The Nile just dumped more food than we could ever use at our feet. And items can be replaced.”

“What are you going to trade for them? You’re even poorer than you were before!”

“I have a great amount of wealth, Bakura.”

The thief stared at Riu with a severely arched eyebrow, and the goatherd smiled, pulling away from him. “I’ll show you.”

Riu made his way down the tree, his feet landing in the mud with a wet sound, and Bakura followed him curiously. “Do you have a hidden store of gold somewhere?” He wondered sarcastically.

“You could say that,” Riu said secretly, looking around before he took Bakura’s hand and pulled him around a bend in the river. When they had arrived, Riu swept his arm in a broad arc, as though revealing all the riches in the world, though Bakura didn’t see a thing.

And then he noticed the sky.

The setting sun had painted the fading clouds with a stunning palette of pink, orange - and gold. Bands of color crossed the sky in a washed-out rainbow, and the whole thing was reflected on the shimmering waters of the engorged Nile. A cool breeze signaled the coming of night.

Even Bakura’s cynical heart was slightly awed by the sight, and his faint rapture was only interrupted when he felt a thin arm settle across the small of his bare back.

He glanced at his shorter companion, who just smiled at him sheepishly. The thief went back to staring at the sky, but his own arm drifted to Riu’s waist. He felt the other boy’s head rest on his shoulder, and they listened to the frogs, the insects, and birds sing as though nothing had happened.

“We have gold,” the goatherd murmured, “And music.” He inhaled slowly, his eyes wandering over to Bakura. “Can you still say we’re poor?”

“Mmm… maybe,” He said dismissively, and Riu frowned.

“Well then, what would _you_ consider valuable?”

Bakura turned his gaze to Riu.

He said nothing for what seemed like an eternity, until the faintest of smirks crept across his lips. He reached up to cup Riu’s cheek, trailing his thumb over the skin as a blush rose to its surface.

“This.”

And with that, the thief stole a kiss.

His eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see Riu’s shocked expression, but it wasn’t long before he felt the other boy relaxing against him. Bakura’s hand wandered into goatherd’s damp hair, and this time, when he tasted the Riu’s lips, he knew they were real.

Eventually, they had to part for air, and Bakura hooked his chin over Riu’s shoulder, panting softly.

“Riu,” he whispered, emotion creeping into his voice as he caressed the smaller boy’s back, “I…” Bakura let out a long breath, burying his face in Riu’s hair and suddenly finding it difficult to speak. His voice uncharacteristically faltered, “I…”

Long fingers trailed into his own hair and kneaded his neck, comforting him and coaxing the words free.

“I-I love you…”

Riu ran his fingers down Bakura’s jaw, and though he was quieter, he sounded surer of himself than the older boy. “I love you too, Kura.”

They were silent once again, and Bakura took the time to regain his composure, listening to the natural symphony around them as it heightened with the rise of the crescent moon.

“You’re right…” He said finally, and stood up slightly, “It is like music.”

 Riu was content to nod and lean against him, and he continued, “And you know, we didn’t get to finish dancing, the last time we had music.”

The other boy looked up at him slowly, and Bakura smiled. He stepped back, taking Riu’s hand and leading him gently.

Together, they forgot their aches and pains, their wounds and scars, their losses and grievances. And together, they danced through the mud and desolation, with only the stars as their audience.


	14. Into Eternity

Bakura was disappointed to find no one beside him when he awoke, but Riu was probably just bathing or gathering firewood. He stood up, stretching, and with a faint smirk noted that he’d be glad to give Riu a hand, in either case.

He left the dry hill they had found last night, grimacing at the stench of sun baked fish carrion. Though the ground was a little drier, he still wished he had a pair of sandals as he trekked through the muck. Bakura had been ready to call out Riu’s name, when his eyes fell on a patch of muddy sand.

Flecks of bright red blood dotted the shore.

There was a muffled scream in the distance.

The thief’s heart dropped in his chest. He started running in the direction of the sound, heedless of the protests from his injured foot, nearly tripping over the debris the flood had scattered across the shore. “Riu?! Riu, where—”

As he crashed through the reeds, dread flooded his mind. As he turned the bend, he saw that it was justified.

It was them.

The Pharaoh’s foot soldiers.

Their hands were bloodied and their eyes were wild. They could have stepped straight out of his memory, straight out of the slaughter at his village.

And Riu was at their feet, still wearing Bakura’s red cloak.

They must have thought - the description they were given - how many boys with white hair in red cloaks could there be? He was all that was left over from a dirty little incident that the new Pharaoh didn’t need to deal with.

Bakura screamed at them. He had meant to shout something intimidating, but he wasn’t coherent enough to choose a word. This wasn’t happening, this was not happening, _this isn’t happening…_

The soldiers paused in their beating, looking rather confused as they realized there were suddenly two white-haired boys. However, one soldier was caught up in the fury of bloodlust, and took this opportunity to wield his weapon.

Bakura could do nothing but stand and watch in horror as the sword plunged into Riu’s chest.

The blood of the boy he had come to love danced along the blade. Riu’s soft brown eyes widened, glazed with shock, and his body jerked unnaturally. He sputtered, coughing blood.

Bakura’s mother had done the same thing when she was skewered. And his father. His siblings. His friends.

It was Kul Elna all over again.

Again.

 _Again._  
  
And again, all he could do was stand by and watch.

_No._

Bakura suddenly became very calm. He stopped shaking, stopped staring with wild eyes, and stopped struggling to breath past the knot in his throat. He started walking forward.

The soldiers were frozen. Bakura suddenly seemed, suddenly _felt,_ like something so much more than a scrawny teenager with a bad foot. He didn’t look down as he came to Riu, and he didn’t hear the mortally wounded boy whimper. Bakura’s crimson eyes were set on the soldier holding the killing blade, and the man stumbled back.

Bakura wrapped his fingers around the relinquished handle, and pulled it out of Riu’s body. His eyes wandered over the bloodied sword. His hand trailed down the length of the metal, into the blood at the tip, and as he pulled his hand away, he examined his wet fingertips.

Bakura smeared Riu’s blood on his chest as battle paint, and went to war.

It wasn’t a fair fight. The soldiers had age, size and experience. There were five of them and one of him, and aside from the one whose weapon he had stolen, they were armed with axes and daggers and swords.

But they were helpless. They were only fighting for their lives, after all. Bakura was fighting for something much greater.

Justice.

Hate.

Some part of his mind sat back and watched himself with awe. He shouldn’t be able to move so quickly, wield the sword like it was an extension of his body. He shouldn’t have been able to fight them off so effortlessly, to disarm them, to feel their blood spray onto his skin as he slit throats and stomachs. He shouldn’t have been able to ignore the own long slash that was carved into his face, narrowly missing his eye. Blood ran into his vision, but it didn’t matter. Everything had gone red long ago.

His darkness feasted.

One by one, the soldiers fell, and the thief became a murderer. Blood, the blood of the soldiers, the blood of Riu, the blood of Bakura, the blood of the dead fish, all ran into the Nile and stained the waters crimson.

The last soldier fell to the ground, but he was still alive. He scrambled backwards, and Bakura planted a blood-soaked foot on his chest. He loomed over the man, not listening as the soldier begged for his life. Bakura lowered his dripping blade to the soldier’s throat and narrowed his eyes.

“ _Bring this message to his **majesty** ,_” He hissed in a low tone that was not his own, “ _He has made an enemy before he has even taken the throne. Tell him that I will not let him live one day in peace. I will not go one day without robbing from his precious kingdom, be it goods, gold, or life. Tell him that I will not stop, not even after his death, after **both** our deaths, for I will hunt him into eternity!_ ”

Bakura released the man, and the soldier scrambled backwards, stumbling away as fast as he could. As he left, so did the unnatural strength that had possessed the thief, and he collapsed to his knees, stabbing the sword in the ground. He leaned over, gasping for breath.

“Ba… B-bakura…”

Bakura blinked as he heard the weak voice address his back, and he turned, crawling back to Riu. He stared down at the dying boy and watched a patch of dark red spread across the white linen shawl.

Bakura started choking, “Riu, I couldn’t… I should have… I’m sorry,” He sagged, lying atop Riu and holding him close. He buried his face into the goatherd’s neck, unable to fight back the tears, “I’m sorry…”

He felt a weak hand settle on his head and stroke his hair. “Don’t cry,” Riu whispered with the last of his breath, “It’s not the end.”

Bakura looked up at him with wide eyes, but Riu just smiled tiredly, blood trickling from his lips. The smaller boy lifted his hand, pointing up, and Bakura followed it.

He was pointing at the sun.

The thief looked back at him for an explanation, but Riu’s eyes had closed, and his hand sank back into the mud.

“Riu?” Bakura’s voice was small and trembling.

No reply.

He shook the smaller boy’s shoulder. “ _Riu?_ ”

Silence.

Bakura lowered his head and started sobbing. He didn’t move for a long time. He didn’t want to let him go, because he knew Riu would turn cold as soon as he did.

Two boys died that day.

For when Bakura finally stood, he was no longer human.

He was the darkness.

***

_The boy who merely stole for food and fun became a man who robbed the tombs of the dead._

_There was no challenge too great, no treasure out of his reach, and nothing he wouldn’t do to get it. The country that had turned its back on the white-haired boy in the red cloak learned to fear him as he grew older._

_He brought his wrath down on every village he found along the Nile. He was never caught, never stopped. He couldn’t be stopped. The spirits of his family followed him, protected him and gave him a supernatural sixth sense. They were his only companions, all his darkened heart needed. He took a woman to bed here and there, but he was always long gone by the next morning. Never again would he make the mistake of staying, the mistake of caring._

_Besides, they weren’t Riu._

_He learned of many things. He learned the true reason his village was slaughtered and sacrificed. He learned of the wicked items forged from gold melted with their blood and bones. Riu was right. There was magic in the world, and now he sought to claim its power. He learned of the dark games, and his hate birthed an unstoppable creature. He vowed to take the items, to reclaim the remains of his family, and use the power in them to get his revenge._

_He became acquainted with the pharaoh and his priests. He did battle with them on more than one occasion, and even when he wasn’t near the capital, he found ways to torment them. He became the scourge of Egypt, the nightmare of the pharaoh; the King of Thieves._

_He wore the jewelry of dead god-kings, draping his spoils around his head and shoulder, wrists and fingers. He never hid, and never ran. Many tried to claim his head, but they were always the one that ended up missing._

_His lust for justice became lust for blood and power. His soul became black as the starless night sky._

_But sometimes his journeys brought him to a remote part of Upper Egypt, to a secluded little farm not too far from a small village, where gazelle grazed along with the goats in the fields. The Nile may have washed away the house that stood there, but not even the mighty river could take his memories._

_And sometime, he would take some of his golden treasure, and rest it on a small, unmarked mound of earth, an offering to someone who he felt deserved it so much more than all the rulers and priests and gods in the world. Sometimes, he sat beside the mound and watched the setting sun, looked at the moon and stars, and wondered about the universe again._

_He kept his promise to the Pharaoh. In one final showdown, the ruler of Egypt had used some sort of powerful magic, and banished himself and the tomb-robber into a place outside of time. His body died, but his soul lived on in one of the items. For three thousand years, he lived in the darkness._

_But then, he had lived in the darkness all his life._

_He mastered the shadows, learned its tricks and ways, and as the item he was trapped in traveled the world, he watched civilizations rise and fall. Battles were waged, saviors came and went, technology rose and the old religions died beneath the war machine, but through it all, human nature never changed._

_For three millennia, he waited and watched. He hadn’t stopped hunting. He would never stop. He and the Pharaoh would fight until the end of time, as life and death, day and night._

_For three millennia, he was the darkness._

_And then he saw a light._


	15. Epilogue

_Miles away from light at noon_

_Total eclipse of the moon_

_Many reasons to believe in life_

_Just listen to what it's telling you_

_Come and have a look inside_

_Total eclipse of the moon_

_Don't be childish, don't be so cruel_

_I'm feeling lonely without... without you..._

_I can see the wide horizon_

_But debts have to be paid_

_Our ways will cross again someday_

_Believe, and come back to you... I'll see you soon._

_Many nights in our lives before_

_I was dreaming to be just beside... beside you._

_Total eclipse of the moon..._

_I'll see you soon._

~Enigma - Total Eclipse of the Moon

 

 

Ryou was confused.

The last thing he remembered was staring down the double gullet of a huge, serpentine dragon. His arm had the strangest sensation of being freshly stabbed. Holographic cards and ghosts were floating before him, and he remembered Yugi - or was it that other Yugi? - standing in front the dragon, looking just as bewildered as he was. He said something, but Ryou was too dazed to hear it.

Then he felt his body taken away from him. It almost felt like someone was standing before him, arms spread protectively as white light enveloped everything.

And now he was stumbling through darkness. Somehow, he knew he was unconscious and this wasn’t really happening, but ever since the Ring had come into his possession, reality seemed rather subjective. He felt drugged on top of everything else, which didn’t help.

Suddenly, there was a wall in front of him. No, not a wall. It was a door, an ancient door with a familiar stylized eye carved into it.

That was… new.

Ryou was aware of the other presence in his mind, but it didn’t speak to him much. It taunted him occasionally, but now that the spirit had full control over him and could take over Ryou’s body as it pleased, it - he - said little. Ryou wasn’t about to try and engage him in conversation, either. Much as he tried to be brave, he was quietly terrified of the spirit and the darkness it brought to his mind. The boy was pretty sure his sanity was in ruins, but he had come to accept the strange circumstances of his madness. What else could he do?

Should he open the door?

He touched it curiously, and it started to open by itself. Ryou jumped back and tried to look innocent. He considered running, though he wasn’t exactly sure where he was going to go, probably because he wasn’t exactly sure where he was.

But as the room behind the door was revealed to him, he was too shocked to do anything.

Ryou didn’t know what he had expected. Some sort of evil dungeon or hellish inferno or something. That certainly wasn’t what he found.

The walls were made out of mud bricks. There were some plain pots and baskets to one side, and a bit of hay littered the floor. A distinctive crack ran down the corner of one of the walls, and despite how barren it was the place smelled earthy and felt comforting. Outside of another doorway, it was night, and the wind rustled softly through the moonlit reeds, a cool breeze blowing into the house. He could even hear a river in the distance.

There was a mat in the middle of the floor, and on that mat sat the spirit, the taller, twisted version of himself he had unfortunately become familiar with. His arm was even bound up with a bloodied bandage like Ryou’s own, and he was staring at the wall intently.

Despite his indifferent expression, Riu thought he saw redness around the spirit’s eyes.

He had been expecting that even less than the plain room. Without thinking about it, he asked.

“W-what’s wrong?”

The spirit turned his head sharply and bristled, apparently surprised to see Riu standing there. He quickly stood, looming over his host. “ _Get out of here, mortal!”_

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean, I just –” Riu sputtered, backing away, but the spirit advanced, raising his hand as though to strike him.

Riu winced, steeling himself, but the blow never came. He dared to open one eye.

The spirit - Bakura, he liked to be called, adopting Ryou’s surname for reasons the boy didn’t understand - seemed frozen, staring down at him. His eyes had been angry, but now they had a faraway look to them, almost… sad?

_It’s just a stupid mortal._

The words were whispered across the room like a thought given life, and Ryou realized they belonged to the spirit. He opened his eyes fully, but he didn’t get out of his defensive position against the wall.

_…don’t you remember what happened last time you started to care…?_

Riu blinked, watching an internal conflict wage behind Bakura’s eyes.

_…you could have won that duel!  Malik said…_

Ryou frowned. Malik? What on earth was Bakura talking - thinking about? Did he know Ryou could hear him?

_That foolish child hasn’t seen the Pharaoh’s cruelty first hand._

The spirit’s hand was shaking in the air.

But after a period of silence, the hand was forced down, back to Bakura’s side.

_I couldn’t let the Pharaoh kill him again._

Ryou tilted his head. Bakura’s eyes were staring at him, and Ryou returned the gaze. The spirit’s red pupils had always been one of his more fearsome traits, red for blood and violence, Ryou supposed, but now…

Now they looked a little different.

He wasn’t used to seeing tears in them, after all.

_…couldn’t lose him again…_

Ryou almost wondered who Bakura meant, but somehow, his subconscious knew.

Unbidden, words came to him, and he softly spoke them before could stop himself.

“Don’t cry…”

A strange look crossed Bakura’s face, and he quickly turned around, going back to his mat. Ryou took that as a sign that he was supposed to leave, and he headed back towards the ancient door.

“Ryou.”

Ryou paused, lifting his head. He wasn’t used to hearing the spirit actually talk.

“It’s a cold night of our soul…”

Bakura was sitting down, his back turned.

“…come sit beside me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Their story isn't technically finished. Powerless started out as a completely separate fic but they've all been collapsed into the same timeline, and when I get around to posting/writing the rest of Powerless's sequel, I'll make it official.


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